The Turning of the Tides
by seraphina83
Summary: (eventual JW slash) Set after the film, Will realises his mistake in staying with Elizabeth and joins Jack on the Pearl. Raids gone awry etc. Will is questioning his decision and his moral standing. CHAPTER 14 un beta´d up
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: The Turning of the Tides 1/?

AUTHOR: Seraphina )

PAIRING: eventual Jack/Will slash

RATING: All over R but varying (anything over will be censored and the original version posted to )

SUMMARY: Set after the events on the film, Will realises that perhaps the life he's chosen with Elizabeth isn't for him.

DISCALIMER: Not mine, never was, and unfortunately, never will be.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: You may have seen this fic previously on under the pen name 'seraphinikins'. My account was closed due to faults that were entirely my own but had nothing to do with this particular fiction. So yes, this is a repost but have finally added some new chapters!

CHAPTER 1

It didn't take long for him to realise that it wasn't going to work between them. It was a classic clear cut case of the age old 'we're from two different worlds' saga.

Will's brief stint on the high seas- well the Caribbean Sea at least- had awoken in him something that had managed to remain dormant for nigh on nineteen years, but had since left him longing for the feel of a ship's decking beneath his feet, rocking with the swell of the waves.

Jack knew it all along. As presumptuous as he'd been in announcing that piracy undeniably coursed through the veins of the young Turner, and as loathe as Will was to admit it, Jack had been right.

Something had changed in him but as things stood now, it would seem that he wouldn't be changing back into his old self at any time in the foreseeable future.

Will was indeed a blacksmith and a talented one at that. But he was also a blacksmith of pirate stock, and definitely not a gentleman. More to the point, he would never be a gentleman.

There was no noble blood flowing in him, waiting for the opportune moment to reveal itself and sate his desperate need for the sea. He'd felt the freedom that was there to be tasted in the spray of the ocean and there was no going back.

Elizabeth's and his adventure together had at first served as a novelty to her but she was what she was and now she turned to Will to be the fiancé that she sought. The fiancé she had assumed Will would become; a gentleman fiancé who would one day be her gentleman husband with all the trimmings and then some.

But in his heart of hearts, Will knew that he could never be what Elizabeth wanted. He couldn't run a noble household and parade around with the stuffed shirt 'who's who' of Port Royale society pretending to be one of them.

Will first realised how futile his situation was on the afternoon leading up to their engagement party. It was to be a grand affair and governors and other officials had been arriving from other nearby colonies for the two days preceding the event. Elizabeth's insistence on having Will arrive at the Governor's Manor by no later than one o'clock had sent the first set of alarm bells ringing in his head. The second set began their frantic clanging not long after his appearance at the extensive residence as Elizabeth ushered him into one of the empty guest's quarters along with seven male servants.

They had promptly proceeded to strip him of his humble blacksmith's attire, despite his extremely loud and lengthy protests which proved more than innocuously useless as he was unceremoniously dumped into a small copper tub. The next few minutes were spent trying to avoid humiliation as he was forcedly scrubbed from head to toe in frigid water before being dragged out again and poked, powdered and prodded as fourteen hands dried and swathed him in what was claimed to be 'the latest London fashion'.

Elizabeth reappeared just in time for the donning of the snow white horse hair wig that curled above his ears and was fastened in a pony tail at the back with a piece of blue ribbon. In spite of the thunderous expression that marred Will's features, she smiled broadly and exclaimed with hands clutched to her breast in praise, how wonderfully handsome he looked.

Will's jaw dropped as a hand was waved and gilt mirror brought before him. The Will Turner he saw before him demonstrated anything but his idea of handsome.

"I look like a bloody great peacock."

His reflection scowled back at him, seemingly just as unimpressed with the sight that it was presented with.

His face, once slightly tanned from his seafaring ventures was now a delicate porcelain colour, lips and cheeks rouged, reminding him distinctly of the whores that could be found pedaling their wares in the taverns Jack Sparrow had introduced him to. And how the pirate captain would laugh if he could see Will as he were now.

He gaped as his eyes wandered down to take in the rest of the garb; a true violation to his being if ever there was one. Polished black court shoes with a two inch heels and garishly ornate gold buckles encased his feet. White silk stocks clung to his strong calves and lead to a pair of ghastly golden silk breeches that displayed his assets far to much for him to feel comfortable standing before his future wife in and indeed be deemed appropriate. From under a blue silk waistcoat, a white linen shirt poked out; the only thing he could conceive the wearing of and it was barely visible.

A teal coloured dress coat that fell to just above the blacksmith's silk covered knees completed the look; flowers of thin gold thread embroidered all over the garment and gold buttons adorning the front panels and the ridiculously oversized bell cuffs.

"Don't be silly William,"

Elizabeth had taken to calling him by his full Christian name of late. Maybe that should have alerted the first set of warning bells.

"You look wonderful."

For the first time, Will actually shifted his wide eyed gaze in the mirror to take stock of what his fiancée was wearing. As he took her appearance in, he forced a pleasant expression onto his face.

"We're colour coordinated."

Elizabeth's reflection laughed, not hearing the grinding of Will's teeth behind the forced smile.

"I know," she said, clapping her hands together in delight." Isn't it marvellous?"

"Oh yes," Will ground out. "Isn't it indeed."

His brow creased as a small silver box appeared in Elizabeth's hand and he turned to face her.

"What do you have there?" His voice was laced with suspicion and he realised that he was afraid of the answer.

Elizabeth didn't reply but instead opened the box and delicately stuck a finger in. It would seem that his fear had been warranted as his eyes flew open and he backed away from the supposed woman of his dreams, hands up in a defensive gesture as if she brandished a pistol.

"Oh come along William," she said, smiling sweetly as she moved, or stalked rather, towards him. "It's the latest mode in gai Paris."

She held her right index finger aloft and on it, like some large and very ugly black beetle, sat a beauty spot in the shape of a star.

"Elizabeth," he looked at her pleadingly, having reached the wall and finding there was no where else to run. "I can't wear that."

"Of course you can my darling," she cooed, still wearing the ridiculously unwavering smile on her face. "For me?"

As Will was all but forcedly held down and the beauty spot applied, Elizabeth ran through table etiquette, ticking things off on her fingers as she waltzed around the room, occasionally giving advice to the servants who were straightening Will's outfit.

"Now William I shall need to run through cutlery with you before-"

"I know how to use a blasted knife and fork, Elizabeth."

He was angrily swatting away a servant who had been adjusting his breeches with far too much familiarity around the crotch area. Jack had once told him that the only things that mattered in life was what a man could do and what a man couldn't do. At that moment, Will decided that there also existed the small matter of what a man would do and what a man wouldn't do because for him with each passing minute that thin line was being pushed towards breaking point.

Elizabeth gave him a tight lipped smile.

"Yes I know you do dear but tonight there will be multiple knives and forks for multiple courses and I don't want you embarrassing yourse-"

"You mean you don't want me embarrassing you," he said angrily pulling away from the servants.

He tugged at the front of his breeches trying to make them cling less but only succeeded them and pulling them tighter up his arse. At least the dress coat covered that.

"Don't worry Elizabeth, I'm not a complete savage. I think I can handle the cutlery. I did make the damn things after all."

Elizabeth huffed and retreated with a swirl of gold and teal skirts.

Will scowled and turned to look at himself in the mirror again, not regretting in the slightest the harsh tone he'd used with her as he saw the pompous ass looking back at him wearing an identical scowl.

Regret would come later on that night, when Will would wish that he'd listened to what Elizabeth had said as he mulled over the eight pieces of beautifully handcrafted utensils that lay either side of his Wedgwood dinner plate, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible as he scratched at the irritating wig and ignored the gleeful smirk that was plastered on Norrington's face at the lad's obvious discomfort.

It was then that Will Turner realised that he was way out of his league. Oh how the tides had turned.


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: The Turning of the Tides 2/?

AUTHOR: Seraphina )

PAIRING: even tual Jack/Will slash

RATING: Overall R but varying (Anything over will be censored and the original posted to )

SUMMARY: Elizabeth comes to the same realisations that Will has.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, never have been and unfortunately never will be

CHAPTER 2

It was a classic clear-cut case of the age old 'we're from two different worlds' saga.

Whilst Elizabeth had enjoyed the chance she'd had to break out of the mould she'd been squeezed into all her life, her adventures with Will and the infamous pirate captain Jack Sparrow had been naught but a novelty and now she was ready to sit back and be a lady. To take Will as her husband and to have him love and cherish her for the rest of his days, just as the vows dictated.

But Elizabeth was beginning to see that Will was a changed man and even though he did love her and she him, he longed for something that she was unable to give him.

She had put his performance on the afternoon of their engagement party down to a bad mood and nerves but over the next few days, Will had displayed to her that he was by no means the gentleman that she longed for him to be.

Despite her urging him to, he refused to give up smithing and his life at the forge. She'd pointed out that it was of no economic benefit to him for his wages were still only that of an apprentice and in spite of being an old drunk, Mr Brown was still the owner of the smith and didn't look like letting go of his grip on this realm any time soon. But Will stubbornly refused to leave. It wasn't a matter of money, he'd countered. It was a matter of sanity and how he, Will, could not live the life she wanted for them without something to retreat to at the end of the day, when his feet were blistered from the foolishly high shoes she made him wear and his scalp itched like the devil from sporting that absurd wig.

Elizabeth sighed as she sat perched on the cleanest stool she could find in the forge and watched Will work. She admired the way he looked when he smithed, hair falling about a face that was severely set in concentration. Sweat ran down his forehead and his arms as he pounded away on a glowing piece of iron set on an anvil, the gleam of the fire lighting his angular planes and shining in those beautiful chestnut eyes of his.

Yes he did look quite pleasing to the eye as he worked but he also looked like a tradesman.a common man with common goals and a common life to boot. No this would never do.

She stood and cautiously made her way closer to him, trying to see what it was that he was fashioning from the piece of iron. Will looked up and smiled at her, happy that she seemed to be taking an interest in his work instead of sitting in the corner, trying to hide the obvious contempt she held for the donkey and it's odour.

She returned the smile, hands behind her back as she peered at the iron on the anvil, craning her neck in an attempt to not have to get too close.

"What are you making William?"

She'd begun to use his full Christian name of late, feeling that it was better suited to a man of status of which he would become once they were married. Will was not a suitable name for the husband of the governor's daughter.

Will blinked several times before answering.

"It's a horseshoe, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth turned her head slightly to look at it from another angle, her brow creased slightly before she broke into a smile.

"Oh yes, so it is. How quaint."

"Would you like to have a try?"

Elizabeth looked up at him and saw there an expression of hope that maybe she could learn to accept him for what he was and take an interest in what it was that he did and loved doing.

Elizabeth smiled meekly back at him.

"Oh, I don't know William.I guess I could give it a try."

Will's smile broadened as he pulled her over to where he stood. She tried not to react to the dirty, sweaty hands that gripped her and she moved to position herself in front of the anvil. Will placed the hammer in her grasp and showed her where to strike. As her hands swung down awkwardly, she let out a small squeal as sparks flew up from the red hot metal. This was not work for a lady but she continued anyway under Will's guiding hands.

She couldn't hide her sigh of relief when Will told her she'd done enough and took hold of the horseshoe in a pair of tongs.

"Now you need to douse it, " he instructed, the smile on his face never wavering as she looked uncertainly between the implement in her hands and the bucket of murky water a little to her right to her.

Will gave her an encouraging nod as she took a step towards the bucket and plunged the hot metal into it.

A 'whoop' of surprise left her mouth as steam poured off the horse shoe and she staggered backwards, not wanting to ruin her hair that had been set for the week that very morning. As she reeled backwards she tripped over Will's feet and landed quite promptly on her rump on the filthy dirt floor.

"Elizabeth!" Will cried, rushing to her side.

She was grateful for Will as he wasted no time in hauling her to her feet but she also wished that he would refrain from grasping at her arms so much as she stared dismally at the black smudges all over the cream silk of her sleeve.

She tried not to pull to harshly out of his grasp as she attempted in vain to dust herself off. These stains would never come out.

It was then that Elizabeth Swann realised that she was way out of her league. Oh how the tides had turned.


	3. Chapter 3

TITLE: The Turning of the Tides 3/?

AUTHOR: Seraphina )

PAIRING: eventual Jack/Will slash

RATING: overall R but varying (anything above will be censored and the original posted to )

SUMMARY: Will and Elizabeth come to agree that they really are not made for each other.

DISCLAIMER: not mine, never were and unforunately, never will be.

CHAPTER 3

Will and Elizabeth walked hand in hand along the parapet of Fort Charles.

Each had something to say to the other but neither had any idea of how to go about it. Perhaps if they'd known that they were both trying to find the same words, it would have been easier but as is the law, put down by Murphy, things are never destined to be that simple.

Elizabeth couldn't help but notice the longing glances that Will would cast out over the sea every five minutes and Will in turn couldn't ignore the way Elizabeth had looked at his hand to make sure it was clean before she'd taken it.

At last they came to a stop under the alarm bell at the head of the bluff; the exact spot from which Elizabeth had fallen into the sea below and had consequently been rescued by Captain Jack Sparrow. It was also the exact spot they had last seen said pirate before he'd made his less than impressive and most certainly ungraceful escape from Commodore Norrington and the Port Royal gallows.

Turning to face each other, Will lifted a hand to Elizabeth's face (and it was a clean hand. He'd nearly rubbed it raw with a bristle brush earlier that day) and stroked a stray hair behind her ear. They both took a deep breath before launching simultaneously into what they had to say.

"William I need to tell you something-"

"Elizabeth I need to tell you something-"

"You first."

"No please, ladies before gentlem-…ladies first."

Elizabeth smiled weakly at that and took his hands in hers, and taking another deep breath she began what she expected to be the hardest thing in the world.

"William…Will…I love you with you all my heart and I know that you feel the same way about me but lately I…" she trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

"Yes? " Will prompted, face open and earnest, clutching her hands in his. But lately she what? Felt that he'd been an ass? Wasn't all she'd hoped he would be?

"But lately I…" she looked around hopelessly. But lately she'd what? Felt she'd been unfair to him? Tried to turn him into something he wasn't?

"Yes?"

She looked forlornly into his eyes. Would he be crushed if she said what she had to say? Well there was no two ways about it, it had to be said.

"But lately I have felt that we are-"

"Out of our league?" he finished for her, continuing when she broke into a grateful smile. "That we're from-"

"Two different worlds? Oh Will!" she cried when he nodded and threw her arms around him. "I DO love you, I really, honestly do love you."

"And I you, Elizabeth," he said holding onto her and smiling. "But-"

"The tides have turned" they finished together.

They drew apart and grinned at each other although there was still a sense of sorrow there. Despite the love that they had for each other, it was not meant to be.

"Well," Elizabeth sighed, smoothing her skirts that had become crumpled from their impromptu embrace. "Now that that's over and done with…go to him Will."

Will looked at her, his brow creased in confusion.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Come now Will. You think I haven't seen the way you look out there as if expecting to see him returning to take you away to the life you dream of?" she said, gesturing to the sea in front of them.

Will had the decency to look a little sheepish. Had he been that obvious? He certainly hadn't meant to be.

Elizabeth continued.

"Promise me that tomorrow morning, you'll take the first ship out of here and go after that life?"

Will's mind was whirring. Tomorrow morning? He'd be off on his search for the Black Pearl and her crew the very next day? He was having a hard time letting the information sink in that he'd forgotten to answer Elizabeth.

"Will," she said, shaking his hand. "Promise me?"

"I promise," he said, a little breathless as he tried to get his head around it all. Then something occurred to him. If Elizabeth wasn't to marry him then…"As long as you promise me something in return." His eyes shifted to look over her shoulder. "You go to him."

Elizabeth looked puzzled until she followed Will's gaze to see Commodore Norrington inspecting the garrison currently on lookout duty on the other side of the fort. She turned back and smiled broadly at him.

"Thank you Will. He's a fine man."

"He is," Will said, knowing in his heart that the navy man would do better by Elizabeth than he ever could hope to.

"But you're a finer one."

They kissed chastely one last time and Will began to walk Elizabeth back to the Governor's Manor.

"Elizabeth, I must ask of you one last thing before I depart Port Royal."

They were now at the gates of the manor and Elizabeth was just about to take leave of her now former fiancé.

"Anything Will."

"The treasury…I need you to get me entry into it."

Elizabeth smiled knowingly and nodded. "There is no need Will. I'll have it all sorted for you by morning. I'll have a trunk with your name branded on it loaded onto the ship."

She turned to go.

"One last thing…well two things really."

"Yes?" she asked expectantly.

"Please don't ever get it into your head again to address me as William."

Elizabeth laughed. "And?"

"Where shall I look for Jack?"

She gave Will a mocking smile.

"Where do you think?"

"Tortuga?"

"Yes, Tortuga."


	4. Chapter 4

TITLE: The Turning of the Tides 4/?

AUTHOR: Seraphina )

PAIRING: eventual Jack/Will slash

RATING: over all R but varying (antyhing above will be censored and the original posted to )

SUMMARY: While looking for Jack in Tortuga, Will find himself in a bit of trouble with the local females of the whoring kind.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, never were and unfortunately, never will be.

CHAPTER 4

The Isla la Tortuga had not changed in the few months that that had passed since Will Tuner was first introduced to the pirate-infested island. Everywhere that the young man walked, as he dodged livestock and drunken brawls, he was met by the smell of rum, cheap perfume and in the darker allies, pig shit.

Yes, Tortuga was definitely the same old hovel and the thought was somewhat comforting to Will as he strode into his fifth tavern for the night. The others had proved fruitless and Will was beginning to think that coming to Tortuga had been a somewhat pointless exercise.

The problem with looking for Jack was that he was notoriously well known. Any whore that Will enquired as to the pirate's whereabouts claimed that she'd bedded him not five minutes ago. Any pirate he asked had apparently just slitted the bastard's gullet and plundered the corpse and it would seem that every barkeep in the uncivilised settlement had at some stage that night given Jack a tankard of their finest rum on the house. And although a man could technically only be killed once, all of these were possible truths. Will sincerely hoped that if Jack was around he had not met an untimely demise, whilst the idea of Jack whoring his way around the island didn't sit too comfortably with the boy either, although for the life of him he didn't know why. So he pushed it to the back of his mind as he entered the rowdy establishment and concentrated on the task at hand.

The Faithful Bride had been the inn that Jack, in a strike of what he'd thought to be genius, had struck a deal with Joshamee Gibbs. For this reason Will had tried to avoid the place at all cost, the memories of the conversation of 'leverage' that he'd overheard making him feel uneasy. Of course Jack had turned out to be an ally-Will wouldn't be in Tortuga now if he wasn't- the inn was a reminder to him that the adventure he'd had with Jack could have ended very differently. But having been unsuccessful in his search so far, he decided to give the Bride a chance before he turned in for the night.

Upon his arrival at Tortuga, he had managed to acquire one of the only rooms on the island that wasn't let out by the hour and while it wasn't by any means what one would call impressive, it did the job nonetheless. So what if it was far more sanitary to sleep on the cold, hard floorboards than to risk a night lying on the lice-infested mattress? If everything went to plan, he wouldn't be there for much more than a day anyway. But then again, how often did things go to plan?

As he entered the stinking beer hall, Will strode purposely past the other patrons and serving wenches towards the shadowy depths of the far wall. At the previous taverns, he'd walked right up to the bar and asked the clientele that stood there if they'd seen or heard word of the elusive captain but this time he had decided to try a different tactic.

Taking a seat on a bench in the back corner, Will decided that it was fair and reasonable to assume that if Jack was in Tortuga or had at least been there recently, there would be talk. All Will would have to do was to sit back and wait for the information he sought to present itself to him. People in these kinds of places were suspicious by nature and Will figured that he wasn't doing himself and favours by asking around for Jack. People either loved or despised the pirate captain and Will didn't need any run-ins with those of the latter frame of mind.

His plan of going incognito may have been pulled off smoothly if the barkeep-who was also, as luck would have it, a pimp- had not spotted him with no drink and no woman when the clothes that Will wore (a gift from Elizabeth on their parting) suggested that he could afford several of both.

With no more than a whistle and a head gesture from the grisly looking man, Will was set upon by a hoard of working girls, who shoved heaving bosoms and flagons of ale in his direction. Will was reminded of a pack of hyenas, the gauchely painted faces laughing maniacally as they circled and pawed him, snapping at each other in an attempt top making him their prey.

He yelped vainly and attempted to batter away their filthy, groping hands when he felt the load lighten somewhat as someone from behind dragged a few of the more ambitious girls off of him. The group of whores parted before his eyes, not unlike the Red Sea although the experience he was having was far from being biblical in any way and the whore now standing in front of him, the likes for which the word buxom had been invented, was certainly not any relation to Moses.

She loomed over him, hands on big hips, breast pushed up so high by the evidently too small corset that a hint of rouged nipples could be seen peeping out over the top of the whale-boned contraption.

She cast her eyes around her fellow whores daring them to interfere then opened her mouth.

"This 'ere is a fine gentleman."

A gentleman? Well yes, Will guessed that he was a fine gentleman in the eyes of people like this; people like this being those who thought it unhealthy to bathe more than once in a cycle of the moon and to whom the term 'law' was a foreign word.

"An' what do we do to a fine gentleman such as the one we 'av 'ere?" The huge woman swung her hips as she took a few steps closer to the young and presently cowering blacksmith.

To Will, her voice seemed to boom around the entire establishment but no one else appeared to have noticed what was going on in the corner of the tavern. They were too busy cheating at cards, partaking in bar fights and whoring. Will and his present company were of little or no concern to this bunch. He'd warrant that the barkeep couldn't give a brass razoo as to how his girls went about their jobs as long is it was done and he got his cut.

"We treat 'im wiv the respect tha' a fine gentleman be desrvin'. That is to say tha' we let 'im choose who 'e beds an' not t'other way 'round."

She stopped looking around at the other girls who had gone quiet since her arrival and looked at Will, her stern features a little whilst still keeping an intimidating air. Dark greasy hair hung limply around an equally greasy visage and a big, chunky neck, the likes of which Will was sure he couldn't fit his hands around, held her large head onto her proportionately large shoulders.

This was obviously Will's cue to say something but as he looked around at the horseshoe of painted ladies gawking at him, his mouth flapped open and closed, unable to find any words that might save him from the horror that cast her shadow over him now. 'Large' was the word that seemed to resonate around Will's head as he looked at her…he couldn't help but look at her due to her largeness. All this made Will feel very small indeed.

The Madam's hands moved from her hips, to cross her arms at her chest, pushing her ample breasts higher if that were at all possible.

"Well Sir, I was thinkin' it customary for a gentleman such as yerself to at least compliment a lady on 'ow she be lookin'."

She lifted a thin drawn on brow and looked expectantly at Will. He squirmed on the hard wooden bench seat, wishing for all the world that he'd forgotten about Jack Sparrow and returned to his life as a blacksmith without complaint. Speaking of Jack, why couldn't this 'woman' just slap him like every other female on the planet seemed to do to the pirate and leave him in piece although he had a sneaking suspicion that any strike he received from this woman would leave him with a broken jaw.

"Well?"

He shifted slightly under her gaze and said very quietly. "Yo-you-your nipples seem to be showing…buttheyareverynice."

There was pregnant pause during which every whore seemed to stare at him, kohl-streaked eyes wide and waiting for the Madam's response.

As it were, despite being momentarily struck dumb, the huge woman threw her head back and laughed, a deep guttural sound that had her entire form jerking under the confines of the corset. If a laugh could ever be described as 'large' then this was it.

She looked at him, kohl running down her face as her eyes watered in an attempt to recover from her attack of mirth.

"Oh lad but ye are a green'un."

Will smiled nervously. At least he seemed to have gotten himself out of this one and he would be left alone to continue his look out for Jack Sparrow.

"Ain't 'e precious girls?"

There was a raucous giggle of response that sounded more like a gaggle of geese than anything else.

Will sighed with relief as the Madam began to move away but the nervous smile was wiped off his face as she called back over her shoulder, "Flora, Fanny and Anneliese; take care of our esteemed guest!" and Will was set upon, once again disappearing under squealing prostitutes and a flurry of dirty skirts.


	5. Chapter 5

TITLE: The Turning of the Tides 5/?

AUTHOR: Seraphina )

PAIRING: eventual Jack/Will slash

RATING: over all R but varying (anything above will be censored and the original posted to )

SUMMARY: Will finds Jack and together they find trouble.

DISCLAIMER: not mine, never were and onfortunately never will be.

CHAPTER 5

Will's attempts to voice any protest was swiftly cut off as he found himself with a mouthful of stinking armpit. All he was capable of now were a few indignant muffles as his shirt was torn and his crotch grabbed at. He had a small victory when he managed to elbow one girl hard enough to have her release her painful grip on his hair but that still left him with five other hands groping in various places, none of which were at all appropriate.

Although Will did not consider himself to be a gentleman, he still had a fair idea of what was proper and what was improper and his current situation was leaning heavily on the side of the latter. He had never in his life even conceived the idea of attending a brothel. He had very rarely even visited the taverns of Port Royal but when he had there had definitely been no sign of a whore. They kept to the areas surrounding the docks and were left alone for the most part as they kept the undesirables out of the town centre. But there was evidence of whoring all over Tortuga because the only people there were undesirables…and then there was Will.

Will didn't know how long he was stuck under the writhing mass of soft but filthy female parts, but at some stage, when his ears were free of tits, elbows and any other obstructions, he heard a commotion coming from the direction of the door as someone entered in a rush and a squeal of whores and a familiar voice rang out over the din of the crowd shouting "Drinks all 'round!"

A cheer went up all around the tavern but the three girls accosting Will gave no indication that they were going to go and join the madness that had broken out at the bar. With a rise of panic, the thought occurred to Will that he must be stuck under the only three people in the whole of Tortuga that would pass up on a free drink.

"Where're me girls?!" the voice slurred out again and this time Will was able to place it and the panic receded slightly. He would've wept for joy if he weren't already so close to weeping from the lack of propriety of his situation as Jack Sparrow continued to call out across the inn.

"Where are Flora, Fanny and Anneliese?!"

Will attempted to cry out that they were over here, on top of him and violating his person completely against his will, but there was still the matter the armpit in his way. And so it was that Will doubled his wriggling assault but succeeded only on sliding further and further down on the bench until his legs were quite firmly pinned beneath the table in front of him. The panic returned in the form of a tidal wave and kept on rolling in as he heard the Madam approach Jack and tell him that his girls were otherwise engaged with a gentleman and that the pirate would have to wait his turn like any other scoundrel.

Will wanted to scream with frustration and bite into the armpit and if Jack hadn't been an impatient and possessive bastard, Will could very well have been washing the taste of that particular piece of Flora's anatomy from his mouth for the rest of his days.

But Will was saved from this disturbing outcome as Jack roared at the Madam to get out of his way. He received a slap for his troubles but soon Jack was hauling Will's maulers off him crying, "No man, gentleman OR scallywag comes between me and my- Oh hallo Will! What the blazes're you doin' under this filthy lot?" The pirate's demeanour changed immediately as he shoved the three pouting girls away without a second thought, grinning from ear to ear.

Acting as though the few months it had been since they'd last seen each other had never occurred, Jack grabbed Will by the back of his shirt collar and hauled the rather shaken lad back up until he was sitting at the table, trying to look as respectable as one could after such an ordeal.

Jack was ignorant to the fragile state of mind of the blacksmith as he plonked himself down uninvited on the bench next to his young friend. Not that he needed or would have been denied such an invitation as Will stared gratefully at Jack like he was The Saviour, having delivered him from a fate worse than death.

"You look a little worse for wear, mate. What ever made you think you could take on those three?" Jack asked, gesturing with his head towards the bristling whores who looked decidedly miffed having lost not one but two customers for the night. Their glares were exchanged for sultry pouts and giggles as Jack rifled around inside the confines of his dusty old coat and came out with a small bag of coin, tossing it to them and giving them a cheeky wink, sending them on their way.

"I didn't," Will ground out, pulling himself up straight and vainly trying to cover his revealed chest with the remains of his torn shirt. He felt decidedly uncomfortable being so exposed in public. "The Madam 'gave' them to me." He rubbed his face, his hands coming away covered in rouge. Jack laughed and slapped him on the back. Will pitched forward from the force, his ribs hitting the edge of the table and he winced.

Jack didn't seem to notice and snatched two tankards of rum from a passing serving wench. "She must've like you!" The pirate offered one tankard to Will who declined, opting to try and make some semblance of order of himself, wheezing through the pain in his chest. "Best whores in the Bride are Flora, Fanny and Anneliese. The cleanest too. Work as a team they do."

"So I noticed," Will bridled, finding the situation positively unfunny. There would be no saving his shirt. It was ruined beyond repair but this went unnoticed by Jack who was highly amused by the lad's misfortunes and he took a large swig of rum, wiping the remnants from his mouth with the back of a bronzed hand. His gold toothed grin remained, unwavering.

"Well you must've done something to deserve it. Ol' Mary don't give much away for free. Except for the back of 'er 'and that is," He rubbed the side of his face that was still an angry red colour before taking another swig from the flagon.

Will frowned. What had he done? Oh that's right. "I told her that she had nice nipples."

The look on Jack's face was priceless as he choked on the rum, eyes bulging over the top of the mug before howling with laughter. Slamming his drink on the table, he slapped Will on the back yet again. And once again the boy hit the table in front of them with an 'oof'.

"Oh lad but ye are a green one."

"That's what she said," Will mutter as Jack laughed again and ruffled the boy's hair which had escaped its bonds at some stage and hung around his rapidly darkening features in a mess of curls. Will ran a hand gingerly over his ribs. 'Send the whores into break my spirit and the pirate captain to break my body' he thought, questioning his decision to leave Port Royal for the second time that night. Things were not going as he'd planned.

Jack saw the look and took pity on him. "No need to take it personal, mate. Innocence is something that people like us don't see much of these days. Bit of a novelty really but don't take it to heart."

There was a scream followed by a loud clatter and Jack nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping his pistol out from under his battered old coat and whirling around to face the door. Will went sprawling forward onto the table. He stayed there, thinking that if he didn't sit back up again, his poor ribs couldn't suffer anymore damage.

Jack relaxed when he saw that the racket had been caused by a serving wench dropping a jug of ale when a disreputable looking fellow had pulled her into his lap. The woman was currently battering the man about the head with his own hat.

Jack sat back down heavily, knocking Will forward even further but ignoring the groan that emanated from the prone figure of the boy as the pirate's eyes continued to dart around the room giving his face a comical appearance. Not that Will could see any of this from his position on the table.

Jack took a long draught of his preferred beverage, all the while remaining alert until he was satisfied that he wasn't under attack or being watched. Setting the pistol down on the table and his hat on top of that, he glanced down noticing Will who's head was still on the table and dragged the boy up roughly, once more by the back of the collar. Will groaned again as his back hit the wall behind them.

"I think I've broken my ribs."

Jack looked at Will as if he were mad and shook his head, trinkets tinkling with the movement. "Don't be daft boy. Flora, Fanny an' Anneliese aren't big enough to break anything asides a heart. Now look 'ere,"

Will turned his head to stare mildly at his companion, his facing baring an expression that said 'there is nothing in this world you could tell me right now that I would give a damn about because you're a stupid, drunken pirate and I don't know why I came looking for you in the first place'- all this translated to mean a look that was severely nonplussed.

Jack glanced around as if making sure that no one else would be privy to the information he was about to divulge to his young friend whom he thought looked a little peaky. But that was only a minor concern as he swayed in close to Will as he had a habit of doing to people.

"My life", he whispered hoarsely, eyes still darting around, "is in peril."

Will rolled his eyes, shifting and inch to his left, trying to get away from the alcohol fumes that vented from Jack every time he exhaled. "Pirate," said Will by way of explanation, thinking that Jack must've been tipped over the edge at some time in the last few months since he'd seen him. "Since when are you not in peril?"

Jack gave him a look that said 'touché' but continued voicing his suspicions. "Yes but we're talkin' mortal peril 'ere dear William."

"And hanging from the gallows with a noose around your neck doesn't constitute as being in mortal peril?"

Jack gave an impatient sigh but went on without comment. "Word 'as it that someone 'as been askin' aroun' for me this night." His yes narrowed and he gestured with his hands. "A shady character that leaves no name nor does 'e state 'is business." His head made bizarre movements as he encountered this dramatically to Will who sat patiently until the pirate had finished.

When he had, Will shook his head, smiling.

"I'm in mortal peril an' you're all toothy grins?! Well that's bloody luverly ain't it?!" Jack slumped back against the wall and drank his rum darkly.

"I'm not smiling because you're in mortal peril. I'm smiling because you're not in mortal peril."

"O' course I'm in mortal peril!!! I just finished telling you that-"

"I'm the one that's been asking around for you."

Jack frowned, confusion marking his tanned features.

Will rolled his eyes. "I'm the shady character."

Jack seemed to think for a moment before replying. "Yer not shady."

"I could be shady," Will retorted, sitting up straighter and puffing his chest out a little, causing the torn shirt to fall open again. He quickly shrunk back down against the wall, frantically trying to cover himself.

"Yer not shady." Jack repeated.

Will glowered.

Jack smiled. "But this is a good thing!!! I'm not in mortal peril!!!"

"I just said that." Will sulked. He was sure he could be shady if he wanted to…he just didn't want to.

"This is cause fer a celebration," Jack cried, beaming and throwing his arms about wildly. "Let's 'av a drink!"

"You already have two."

Jack frowned again and looked at the two tankards in front of him with an air of determination. Picking up the one he'd already started, he downed it in one gulp. He made quick work of the second before slamming the empty mug on the table. "Let's 'av another drink!" His voice was slightly more slurred than it had been two minutes before hand but he was still quite lucid when it came to the scale of a drunken Jack Sparrow.

"I don't drink."

"Let's 'av a whore!"

Will blanched. "No whores!!!"

Jack threw an arm around Will's shoulders. "Now come on lad. We're celebrating my life not bein' in mortal peril 'ere! So what's it gonna be? A drink or a whore?" The pirate's eyes widened and his whole body jerked up as he had an idea. "Or both?!!!"

Will slumped under the weight of the arm around him and the power of the alcoholic breath blowing in his face. "I'll have a drink. But no rum. Ale will do fine."

"Ale it is!" Jack cried, thumping Will on the back as his arm left the boy's shoulders. Will had enough sense to brace himself against the blow this time and avoided being pushed into the table. Thanking God for small mercies, he took the mug of ale that Jack had swiped of another serving wench and knocked it against the mug of rum the pirate had in a toast.

"To my life not bein' in mortal peril!"

Will repeated the toast and they both took hearty gulps from their mugs.

"So," Jack started after swallowing. "My first question was goin' t'be 'What're you doin' in Tortuga?' but ye've already answered that so my second question is 'Why're ye lookin' for me?' and I may as well throw the third question in too 'cause it probably 'as somethin' t'do with the answer to the latter an' that is, 'What happened to your darlin' Elizabeth?'" The word 'darlin'' was drawn out a little more than the others and Jack fluttered his eyelashes as he said it.

Will shrugged. What was he supposed to say? It didn't work out? Well yes, he guessed so. "It didn't work out."

Jack nodded sympathetically. "Can't say as ye couldn't see that one comin'."

Will frowned. "What's the supposed to mean?"

Jack paused for a second and frowned in thought. "I don't know…it was jus' the…" he made a uninterpretable gesture. "An' the…" followed by another strange hand movement. "With the…" he waved his arms around maniacally. "You know!"

Will stared for a long time Jack, one eyebrow raised and mug mid way between the table and his mouth, before responding. "Let us pretend for one moment, for the sake of my sanity, that all that just made some sort of sense and that you're not completely mad-"

"Oh no lad, never pretend tha' I'm not completely mad. Ye'd be mad to." Jack's eyes went wide as he said that and he broke into another grin and made yet another hand gesture. "Continue."

"YOU'RE COMPLETELY MAD!!!"

Jack snorted. "I know I'm completely mad. I just admitted to bein' completely mad which I guess makes me a lit'le less madder than we first though' 'cause no madman would actually admit to bein' completely mad unless o' course he was mad beyond all stretch o' th' imagination in which case there's likely t' be another word for 'im because one can't be madder than completely mad without being somethin' else, savvy?"

"Oh you're something else alright. Although I'm not sure what that makes me. I am the one who's been looking for you after all." The thought was somewhat depressing to Will. Maybe he was mad too…perhaps even madder than Jack. He chugged on his ale.

Jack nodded. "Why were you lookin' for ol' Jack anyway? Thought ye'd had your fill o' piracy."

Will was just about to open his mouth to tell Jack that he'd been asking himself that very same question all night when a tall, dark man burst into the Bride, flanked by two men on each side, all of them baring pistols.

"Hold that thought," Jack said, placing a hand on Will's forearm just as the man turned and spotted them.

"There 'e is!!!" 

The five of them lifted their pistols and pointed them at Jack.

The rest of the tavern had gone quiet and were watching on with mild interest. Fights were more common than the sunrise in Tortuga, even ones that involved gun fire.

"Jack?" Will said out the corner of his mouth.

"Aye lad?"

"I believe your life is in mortal peril."

Jack turned and grinned at the wide-eyed Will. "Told you ye weren't shady."


	6. Chapter 6

TITLE: The Turning of the Tides 6/?

AUTHOR: Seraphina )

PAIRING: eventual Jack/Will slash

RATING: over all R but varying (anything above will be censored and the original posted to )

SUMMARY: Will, Jack, a sleazy Tortugan bar and shady man out for pirate blood.

DISCLAIMER: not mine, never were and unforunately, never will be.

CHAPTER 6

"Jack?"

"Aye Will?"

"Why are there five pistols pointed at us?"

"Pointed at me, Will. They're pointed at me."

"You try telling that to my brain when it's splattered against the wall."

"The shady one owes me money."

"Oh." The altogether childish thought that he could be far shadier than the man with the pistol fleetingly crossed Will's mind until he processed what Jack had just said. "Wait…he owes you money? How does that work? Why are we on this end of the pistols?"

"Well it's really quite simple, Will. Kill the man ye be owin' and ye don't owe 'im no more, savvy? That an' I may have deflowered 'is daughter. Can't be sure though. It was dark an' there were a few of us-"

Will held a hand up. He didn't want to know anymore of the carnal goings on of the scallywag sitting next to him. He was actually inclined to slip away quietly and let it be open season on Captain Jack Sparrow. Realistically it was an option, but morally it wasn't, and if there was one thing that Will was proud of, it was the fact that he had scruples and would stick by them through thick and thin. However, he wasn't quite sure if Jack was worth dieing for. He didn't even think the pirate was worth getting his good shirt torn for either, but that was already done. He may as well stick it out now.

"Jack Sparrow," the tall man growled, voice like boots on gravel as he and his lackeys stalked forward slowly closing in on the pirate and incidentally on his young and innocent companion.

"Captain Jack Sparrow…Aye?"

The man sneered, his face reminding Will of a wrung out old dishcloth. "Ye defile me daugh'er an' 'av the pluck to show yer face in this, me preferred house o' drink, ye murderous bastard?"

Will swallowed nervously, waiting for Jack's reply. He doubted very much that the Faithful Bride was in fact the man's preferred house of drink. No man in Tortuga had a preferred house of drink. As long as it served ale and women, they'd doubtlessly sit quite happily in a latrine and drink their worthless lives into oblivion.

"Well yes, Sir. All evidence seems t' point to tha' general conclusion. But defile is such a negative term, an' the lass did seem to enjoy it. Begged fer a second round she did but I declined…didn't seem proper."

Will baulked. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

"I'm setting the record straight, 'tis all."

Meanwhile the shady man looked set to explode in front of their very eyes. This didn't seem to worry Jack, though. It did worry Will, however, who was beginning to think that his scruples were a bunch of bollocks. "Is that entirely necessary?"

As Will spoke, the man seemed to notice him for the first time. "Who would ye be lad? Ye look too much of a gent'man to be runnin' with the likes of this pile of pig swill. State yer name an' yer business an' if I be sa'isfied by yer words, I shall let ye leave withou' incident."

Will went to open his mouth to explain that he had never in his life met the 'pile of pig swill' presently sitting next to him but Jack got in before him, his obnoxious voice carrying merrily across the entire inn. "He's with me." Jack grinned ignoring, or quite simply not noticing, the look of bewilderment that crossed Will's features. "In fact, I think ye'll find that he's quite familiar with yer daughter- and a luverly lit'le thing she is too. You see, my mate Will 'ere was more than obliging to aid your lass when she wanted another go of it."

Will's jaw nearly hit the table. Why couldn't Jack have left him to the whores? "What did you say that for you bleeding scoundrel! I did nothing of the sort! I never defiled any body!"

"Jus' wanted t' see the look on 'is face."

The look was priceless, and if there wasn't a weapon pointed directly at his person perhaps Will may have found the fact that he swore he could see steam pouring out the man's ears a little amusing, but there was a weapon, and it was pointed at his person, and he was ready to pull Jack's own pistol out from under the battered hat and shoot the pirate himself.

The man growled.

Jack smiled.

Will whimpered and slid down in his seat.

"I'm goin' t'cut off both yor cocks an' watch you eat 'em." There was a certain glee that resided in the ominous threat that made Will think that the man was picturing this as he said it. Will, on the other hand, was trying very hard not to.

Jack's smile grew even wider. "So you won't be using the pistols then?" he said gesturing towards the guns. "Oh well that's a bloody relief. Had us worried for a sec there, eh Will?" He nudged Will with his elbow but it connected with the blacksmith's ear as he made an attempt to slide further down in his seat.

The man took another menacing step forward. He was now standing a metre from the other side of the table. "I ought to piss down yer throat ye filthy pirate!" he threatened.

"Will that be before or after ye 'av me chewin' on me own privates?"

"What," ground out Will. "Does it matter?"

Jack sighed with impatience as if trying to explain something to a small child. "Well, I like to 'av something to wash a meal down with, don't I?" he said as if stating the obvious.

Will had had just about enough of this and, apparently, so had their aggressor. He was bristling with anger, not having expected to be mocked by someone he had five pistols trained on. He should have liked to see Jack Sparrow die slowly, but he didn't think he could handle putting up with the pirate's incessant banter any longer.

"Shoot them both!!!"

Without a word of warning, Jack pushed himself and Will down under the table as the shots rang out, harmlessly embedding the iron balls into the walls in front of which their heads had been not seconds before. Not that they were likely to have been hit anyway as Flora, Fanny and Anneliese, on hearing the threat upon Jack's manhood had decided to take matters into their own hands. Each had jumped on a man from behind, clawing at their eyes and screaming obscenities, the likes with which Will slightly familiar but made him blush hearing them voiced by females.

But there wasn't much time to contemplate that now as he and Jack crawled around on hands and knees under the plethora of trestles making their way towards the exit. Will found himself in a veritable maze of table legs and boots, some of which came quite close to connecting with his head on several occasions.

He caught glimpses of the fight that had broken out, realising that it was rapidly becoming an all in brawl. The Madam, upon seeing one of her girl's struck from the back of one of the pistol wielding men, had thrown her massive weight into the fray, sending two more offenders flying like bowling pins. She dragged them back up again as they tried to scrabble away and took to them with what Will thought looked remarkably like a rolling pin. His mind reeled as he pondered where she'd pulled it from. But he kept on crawling, hands sliding in muck and the knees of his breeches soaking up God knows what, following Jack who seemed to be fairly certain as to the direction they needed to be heading in.

All this happened in a matter of seconds and before he knew it, Will could see the entrance from between table legs, but failed to register that Jack had actually stopped trying to reach it. He promptly head-butted Jack's behind and slipped a bit more on the slimy floor before copping a boot in his already quite tender ribs.

"What the---Jack, why have we stopped? The door's right there!" Will was more than annoyed, not to mention the fact that it was somewhat off putting trying to hold a conversation with Jack's arse.

With some difficulty and much cursing, Jack managed to turn around and face Will, ignoring the expression of marked exasperation on the younger man's face. He thought about making a comment about how the wind might change and that Will would be stuck with the look forever, but decided against it. He had, after all, put the lad through more than enough for one night. But it was so much fun and so incredibly easy to get him worked up. However there were much more important things at hand.

"Me hat. I left it on th' table along with me pistol." The pirate was finding it terribly awkward to talk without throwing his hands about, but such a move would only result with him being rather recumbent with a face full of mucky floor, soaking up the dregs with his beard. This was not a viable option because Jack Sparrow was not one to look stupid on purpose; he did, however, manage to do it quite frequently when not of his own volition.

"Well you can't go back for it!" Will couldn't believe there was even going to be a discussion on this particular point. The door was right there. They were nearly home free.

" 'Course I can. Can't leave without me hat."

At this moment Will would have very much liked to throw his arms up in disbelief but didn't; not for the same reasons as Jack, mind you, but more because he was under the distinct impression that his hands may have been permanently stuck to the sticky residue on the floor. Instead he opted for an expression of disbelief and tried to reason with Jack. 'Try' being the operative word, as he knew full well that there really was no point. "You can buy a new hat. Wait, what am I saying? You're a pirate. You can steal a new hat but- but, you CAN'T go back. Please Jack, let's just go."

Jack seemed to look thoughtful and, for a moment, Will believed that perhaps he had been successful in his pleading, but he was to be disappointed. "Not without me hat." And with that Jack pushed past Will who fell to the side landing hard on his hipbone. Well what did you know, his hands weren't stuck to the floor after all.

Will righted himself, cursing under his breath---less than one hour spent with Jack and he was already swearing profusely---and reluctantly followed the rapidly retreating rear of the infuriating individual he had been so desperate to find all night, God only knew why!

Soon they were back under the table at which this whole kafuffle had originated and Jack was slowly inching his way up to peer over the trestle top and locate his effects. Will took the time to glimpse out at the tavern noting that the barman cum pimp had now joined in on the altercation. After all, a bruised whore was not going to make him any money. Come to think of it, by the looks of things, he and Jack were the only two not joining in, but all that changed quite suddenly as Will heard the thump of someone jumping up on the table and the whole bar went silent.

Looking at Jack, or what was visible of Jack from the shoulders down, Will saw that the pirate was stock still, holding his breath.

"Ye canna give me the slip tha' easily, Mr Sparrow."

It was the shady man. Will could almost imagine the face that would currently be staring down at Jack, eyes like chips of ebony, grinning maniacally as Will heard him cock his pistol. What to do? What to do? He couldn't just let Jack get shot. Well he could, especially after tonight's incidents, but then there were his pesky, bollocks-y scruples to consider.

"That's Captain Sparrow if ye please, and I assure you I can."

Will couldn't believe what he was hearing! Jack was aggravating the man once again, and, once again, there was a pistol aimed at him. But what was this? Jack was motioning to him with his hand. Well, what was that supposed to mean? The pirate's hand was jerking up in a way that Will thought was not altogether appropriate. Then realising what Jack wanted him to do, he braced his shoulders against the tabletop and heaved with all his strength, which was somewhat dilapidated due to the throbbing pain in the general area of his ribs. But it did the job nonetheless and the table toppled, taking the shady man with it and the brawl was on once more. Not that Will noticed, as he was grabbed yet again by the back of his collar and dragged to his feet. Jack stood in front of him, hat on head, pistol in holster, looking pleased as punch and not in the slightest bit perturbed by the fact that he'd nearly been killed for the second time in one night. And there was about to be a third if they didn't get a move on, Will thought as he saw the shady man recovering from his fall.

"Time for us t' make a quick but stylish exit I think, whelp." Taking hold of Will's forearm, Jack leapt up onto the nearest table, dragging Will with him and sending all manner of jugs, mugs and tankards every which way. Together they ran and jumped from table to table, dodging flying fists and sometimes bodies, eventually jumping down off the one nearest the door and fleeing out into the Tortuga night. Will was sure he could hear Jack's name being screamed out over the noise of the brawl, but they didn't stop long enough to find out.

They hadn't been running all that long when Will shouted for Jack to stop.

"What is it Will? We can't stop for long. He ain't gonna give up tha' easily. I did, after all, defile 'is only daughter." A scallywag grin spread across Jack's face. Will had the impression that that expression never actually left the pirate captain's features, that it lurked there all the time so that it could appear readily…and with great frequency.

"Where are we going?" Will panted. It wasn't that he was tired as such but out of breath from all the excitement. Smithing rarely, if at all, ever got this interesting, and he wasn't used to the thrill of having his life threatened this often. Would it always be like this if he joined Jack? Well, he hadn't even asked if he was welcome yet, but that was a minor detail.

Jack blinked. "To the Pearl o' course. Where else?"

"The Pearl?"

Jack swaggered closer to him, hands out to the side, flopping in their usual fashion. "Aye, the Pearl. That's why you were lookin' fer me weren't it? Ye wanted t' join me crew."

Will looked surprised. He hadn't expected the pirate to be so intuitive, but then he guessed it was the obvious reason. He wouldn't have come to Tortuga for anyone else; that was a certainty. "Well yes, that's right."

Jack threw his arms up and smiled. "Well come on then! I'm in th' market fer a new bosun! This works out perfectly!"

Will smiled for one of the first times that night. Perhaps he could forget that Jack had put him in danger several times already, and on purpose. He had a positive feeling about it all as he and Jack set off down the street again. But then he stopped short again. "My things!"

Jack turned and looked at him quizzically. "What things?"

"My clothes, my trunks, everything. They're back at the boarding house." Will motioned in the direction whence they'd just come. "I have rooms at the Tasse D'or."

Jack frowned. "We'll buy you new clothes, wait, we're pirates! We'll steal you more clothes!" There was that grin again as he threw Will's earlier comments back at him.

Will mirrored the grin but continued. "No, you don't understand. There's something I must get. Something for you."

Jack looked taken aback, but by any means unhappy. "Something for me? Well, why didn't ye say so? We'll 'av t' hurry. They'll be looking for us."

"You mean they'll be looking for you," Will said a little emphatically. Why was he starting to have doubts again?

"Oh no, dear William," Jack replied jovially, throwing an arm around Will's shoulder. "They'll be looking for us…we're in this together now!"


	7. Chapter 7

TITLE: The Turning of the Tides 7/?

AUTHOR: Seraphina )

PAIRING: eventual Jack/Will slash

RATING: overall R but varying (anything above will be censored and the original posted to )

SUMMARY: Escape from the Shady Man (TM); more whores, Jack in drag and pretty little rent boy.

DISCLAIMER: not mine, never were and unforunately never will be

CHAPTER 7

Will stood by the window of the small room he had acquired at the ratty little boarding house, unsure if whether the fact that Jack Sparrow had been rendered incapable of constructing a complete sentence for the past five minutes was a good thing or not.

The pirate captain had made several attempts but having failed miserably at all them he simply turned to the young blacksmith, clasped his hands tightly beneath his chin and gave a cry. "Oh thankyou Will!"

Will blushed and mumbled something akin to 'that's quite alright', and, perching himself on the window ledge, he watched Jack rifle through the trunk that Elizabeth had had loaded onto the merchant ship which had dropped him at Tortuga. A trunk that was filled with the swag Jack had managed to pilfer from the caves of la Isla de Muerta but had later been alleviated of it by one of Norrington's underdogs upon their return to The Dauntless. After all, no one believed Jack would have a use for it ever again. They had all indeed forgotten that he was Captain Jack Sparrow, not through any fault of his own mind you for he'd made anyone that would listen and even some who wouldn't very aware of this fact at every chance he got.

He was not, however doing it now. Jack's focus was on his treasure. The treasure that he thought he'd lost but that had by some miracle, been returned to him by another thing he'd thought he'd lost but he was only just beginning to realise that now.

He turned back to Will Turner and said solemnly and with a flourish, "I was right when I said that not all treasure is silver an' gold, Will. You are a most incredible find and a credit to the memory your dear departed father; God rest 'is soul. Tis a grand gesture, this is, Will. One I shan't be forgetting any time soon."

Jack grinned as Will's blush deepened. Seeing this, Will became somewhat embarrassed, looking for something else in the room to focus on. He settled for a quick glance out the first story window he was sitting in, checking the alleyway it looked onto for any unwanted visitors. There came a few shouts from somewhere far off but no sign of the Shady Man…not yet anyway.

Jack in the meantime had placed the crown on his head and several gold and pearl chains around his neck and was prancing around the room, poking around at the other things Will had brought with him. "What's in 'ere then?" he asked, leaning over another trunk marked 'TURNER'. The pirate screwed up his nose slightly and prodded the wooden chest as if expecting something undesirable to jump out.

Will's face brightened at the prospect of a subject change (praise wasn't something he was used to and he felt rather uncomfortable bathing in the kudos Jack was handing out to him) and strode over to the where Jack stood. "A gift from Elizabeth." The lid was flung open on what must have been well-oiled hinges for the made no sound at all.

"Remind me to send her a note of thanks," Jack said, gazing at the box full of velvet and silk dresses. He was not impressed. "At least she 's enough nous to know that gold is my colour," he said, dragging the first dress out and holding it up against himself. "What do you think?" he asked Will. "Would the hat be too much?" He motioned to a matching bonnet that was also in the trunk.

Will impatiently snatched the dress from Jack and the hat from the coffer before the pirate could get his hands on it. "They are not a gift for you," Will said indignantly. "Elizabeth gave them to me to sell. They are of the finest quality and will fetch quite I price, I'll warrant."

"Well just as long as this is all she's given you," Jack said, ignoring Will's protests as he began to rifle through the trunk some more, the clinking of the necklaces adding to that of the trinkets in his hair. "I'll not have the pox on my ship." He held up the frock coat that Will had been forced to wear for the engagement party just as the young man stepped forward and slammed the lid of the chest shut, his eyes flashing angrily.

"I will not have you speak of Elizabeth that way."

Jack's eyes widened as he feigned shock. "My, my. A little touchy aren't we? And ye'll not have me do anything my lad…I'm the captain 'ere and you'd do best to remember it. As for these dresses," he motioned to the gown in Will's arms and to the chest where others lay, "They won't fetch a tuppence in a place like Tortuga; the lasses don't keep them on long enough to justify paying any more!" He was rewarded with a small smile from Will then moved to closely examine the garment in his hands. "Wherever did you get this? It's not lady's attire, that's to be certain…it wasn't yours was it?" Jack looked him up and down, brow creased and gold teeth flashing in a grimace.

And suddenly Will was blushing again.

He was saved an explanation by the sound of raised voices coming from the front of the boarding house. While the Tasse D'or was quite narrow by any standard, it stretched far back from the street front, almost covering the entire length of the alley it was situated next to. Will's room was one of the farthest from the entrance and the only exit from it was through a door that accessed a hallway running down the opposite side of the house to the alley. The slamming of doors followed the shouts and it became evident that their pursuers had discovered their whereabouts. 

His mock shock turning to its real counterpart, Jack dropped the coat and made a dash for the door, opening it as quietly as possible, sticking his head out into the corridor and pulling it back in quickly, bolting the door shut as he went.

Will looked at him questioningly. Was there to be no peaceful end to this night?

"No way out through there, Will," Jack said, running to the treasure chest and dumping all the gold from it onto the small bed. The crown and necklaces followed and finally, the pirate's battered old hat was thrown atop the pile for safekeeping. The corners of the blanket were then gathered and tied, creating a bundle that was much easier to carry than the trunk would ever have been. "They're checking every room, one after t' other. They'll be 'ere any moment."

Jack had not stopped moving since the first sound of disturbance. They had to get out of here and fast. But once they had escaped there would still be the small matter of making it to the Pearl unnoticed. Looking up at Will who still stood holding the dress and hat, Jack suddenly had an idea. "Put the dress on."

Will looked at him as if he'd just been requested to fight their aggressor off with a teaspoon, one arm behind his back all whilst singing a sea shanty. "I most certainly will not put the dress on." He blamed everything that had gone wrong this night on Jack…which was entirely reasonable seeing as it was all Jack's fault. Will had just had the incredible misfortune of encountering the phenomenon for the occasion of which the phrase 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder' had been coined. Surely the pirate had not been this infuriating on their last jaunt together.

Jack rolled his eyes and snatched the dress off Will. "Fine. You put that on and I'll wear the dress." 

Will blanched as he looked to where Jack was pointing; the floor next to the bed where the pirate had dropped the dress coat. He was almost inclined to wrench the dress back off Jack but the older man had already thrown the gold fabric over his head and was pulling it roughly over the elaborate hair-do to rest haphazardly over his pirate captain attire. So Will picked up the coat, filled with dread, and put his arms through the sleeves, shrugging the loathed gold and teal jacket over his shoulders.

He looked up just in time to catch something that Jack had thrown at him. He glanced down at the object that he now held in his hands and then back up at Jack who was grinning broadly as he fastened the matching bonnet under his chin with a gold ribbon. The slamming of doors and thudding footsteps were getting closer by the second as Will glared resolutely at Jack.

"I will not wear the wig."

He ignored the tight pain that shot through his head as he teeth ground together and took a stance. His mind was made up. He was his own man and would not be swayed. He'd rather face off with the Shady Man than wear that itching burden again.

Ten seconds later, Will sat moodily on the window ledge, arms crossed and wig jammed tightly on his head as Jack made a last minute scout of the room, ensuring he had collected all of his treasure. Satisfied, the pirate stood from looking under the bed and gave that notorious grin. The adrenalin was pumping as the door of the next room was kicked open and sounds of protest were made, and Jack loved it. This is what the Captain lived for…well not the bit with dress but then again, sometimes disguise was part of the game.

With a bit of effort, he lifted the swag-filled blanket off the bed and tossed it at Will.

As his arms had been folded across his chest, Will wasn't quite prepared to catch the bundle and lifted his hands just in time. Unfortunately, the force of the weight pushed him out of the window and he landed with a thud in a pile of mucky straw. Will swore loudly and profusely, cursing Jack, Jack's mother, Jack's father (who was apparently the devil), the day Jack was born, the day he'd met Jack and every word, thought and idea that had ever born itself of Jack. Then he cursed some more and Jack landed on him, crushing the precious metal and jewels against Will and his ribs.

Will cursed Jack again. 

Jack smiled and pushed himself up, leaning more weight on Will in the process, then pulled the lad into a standing position.

"Now William," Jack pretended to chastise the seething youth. "I will not have you tarnishing your gentlemanly image with such language. Hold your tongue lad or I'll hold it for you." Jack wiggled his eyebrows comically and Will wasn't altogether sure he knew what the pirate was getting at but decided that he didn't want to know for it was almost guaranteed to be entirely improper.

"If I were a gentleman, I wouldn't have been forced to come looking for you."

Jack looked confused, his puzzled expression poking out from under that ridiculous hat. "So the reason you were looking for me is because you're not a gentleman? Well I'm sorry to break it to you Will but I can't really help you with that…not my line of work as it were, being a pirate and all." He smiled cheekily and to add emphasis, curtsied. The thing was that it didn't look completely wrong coming from Jack Sparrow and it perturbed Will Turner somewhat.

"It is only part of the reason Jack."

They were still standing in the alleyway outside of Will's former quarters. The young blacksmith adjusted the load of swag he bore and opened his mouth to encounter the entire tale of his parting from Elizabeth and Port Royal, for a moment forgetting about the current situation they were in and why he had just been pushed out of a window wearing an embroidered coat and wig accompanied by and infamous pirate captain in a lady's dress. He was quickly reminded of it as the door of the room from which they'd just made their ungraceful exit was kicked down and the Shady Man was heard to yell "Look out the window!"

He was grabbed once again by Jack who whispered "Hold that thought." and dragged down the alley and around the corner into an even darker and disreputable side street before anyone would have had time to cover the small distance from door to window and gaze out into the now empty-except for a stray cat or two-alley.

The two of them hurtled recklessly- at least Jack hurtled recklessly whilst Will was dragged along for the ride under somewhat more strenuous conditions carrying at least a quarter of his own weight again in gold- down twisting side streets, slipping in muck and disturbing the odd drunk passed out in a gutter until they reached one of the principle streets of the port. Here Jack slowed them to an inconspicuous stroll, his arm linked in Will's, "A gentleman and his whore" as Jack so eloquently put it. Will frowned at this but said nothing, interested only in getting to the Pearl and starting his new life at sea.

Thinking that they'd finally given the Shady Man and his cronies the slip, he began to relax a little. His ribs hurt, a lot and he wouldn't have been surprised if he'd cracked one at some stage but the thoughts a of a new future dulled the pain and made it bearable at least for the time being. Possessing the strong shoulders of a blacksmith, the bundle in his arms wasn't having too much of an adverse effect on him. Anyone else would have been feeling the burn by now but Will was suffering only a faint ache that would be gone within the hour after he'd managed to rid himself of the damn thing of course.

Jack, not surprisingly, had been talking the entire time although most of it was inconsequential drabble but the last half of which had detailed the reasons why he himself was in Tortuga and not sailing around the Spanish Main, wreaking his very own brand of havoc and mayhem on poor, unsuspecting merchants.

"You're very lucky you caught me 'ere when you did Will. Was only 'ere for the day. A matter of rum, o' course. We were nearly out of the stuff you see but never fear, after this stop, the Pearl 'as been loaded with enough to last a' least six months."

"Where's the rest of the crew then?" Will hoisted the bundle into one arm and attempted to scratch at the wig only to have his hand slapped away by ring covered fingers.

"Stop playing with it! Now the crew are back aboard the Pearl. We dropped anchor early this morn in a cove about an hour's row. Didn't think there was any need to announce me presence as unwanted attention is, well, unwanted. So we picked up the rum- for a good price too- and I had Gibbs see to the loading of it onto the ship."

"Well why are you still here?" Will resisted the urge to scratch at his head again. He hated to think what the two of them looked like, walking down that street. They were keeping to the shadows but still, Jack was swaying around in a most unlady like manor but then again, so did most whores so that didn't really matter. The boots were a worry although the dress was long enough to cover them.

Then there was the dress itself. Anyone would think it had been put on in the dark which was possible of course, taking their current location into consideration but if that were the case then the garment didn't fit in at all. It was the dress of a lady and as Jack had pointed out earlier, no whore would pay what it was worth.

"I am still here because I'm looking for a bosun. I told you that. In any case, you found me- or perhaps twas t'other way 'round- and now I have my bosun." A gold-toothed grin flashed and Will couldn't help but return the smile. He had to admit it. Through all that had happened that night, Jack had remained positively and fiendishly happy and it was catchy.

"What happened to your last bosun?"

"Dead." Jack crossed himself…with his left hand.

"What?!"

"It's true. Poor ol' Jamie. Had scurvy you see-"

"He died from scurvy?!"

"Of course he didn't die from scurvy. Bad case of cabin fever too…went mad from it."

"And that killed him?"

"In a way…couldn't even give the poor bloke a proper sea burial."

"Why not?

"There was no body."

"No body?!!"

"Threw his-self overboard in the middle of the night…at least we think that's the way of it. Can't be sure though 'cause, well, dead men tell no tales now do they? Especially dead men ye can't find."

Will looked decidedly horrified. "That isn't much incentive for me to agree to be your new bosun."

Jack shrugged but continued to smile. "Oh I don't know 'bout tha'. You could 'ave lived your entire life in Port Royal, husband to the governor's daughter but that's all you'd ever be."

"But I can come with you and be Jack Sparrow's bosun instead?" Will asked.

Jack ignored the sarcasm that laced Will's words. "Yes, that's a much better prospect don't ye think?"

But Will didn't have much time to think of anything as two men they recognised as being part of the Shady Man gang, rounded the corner up ahead of them. They hadn't looked up and spotted Jack and Will yet but it was only a matter of seconds before they would glance their way and spot a very ugly whore with rather a lot of facial hair and a strange looking gentleman, buckling slightly under the weight of the large bundle in his arms.

Jack looked around frantically for an escape but finding none, decided on the only course of action that could possibly work. Their pursuers were only metres away now, busy scanning the other side of the street as Jack grabbed the bundle off a frozen Will, dumped it on the filthy ground and pushed the lad firmly up against the wall of the building they were passing. Jack then proceeded to kiss his new bosun although whether or not Will would agree after this little episode, who knew but their lives depended on it and there was really nothing for it.

Will, meanwhile, felt as if his brain was several beats behind his body because he hadn't actually realised what Jack was doing until well into the kiss. He was too stunned to be disgusted, too shocked to do anything but be assaulted by Jack's lips and too worried that the charade might not be working and that when Jack finally pulled away, the Shady Man would be standing their behind the cross-dressed pirate, pistol cocked and ready to finish something he'd started a good hour ago that night. Besides all this, his wig itched, and so did Jack's beard. And then all of a sudden, as Jack pulled away, his brain caught up with the situation completely.

Will had just been kissed by a man.

This confused him. He confessed to not being a man of the world but he'd still assumed that he knew everything there was to know about those sort of things- even if he was yet to experience most of them- and he was fairly certain that it only ever worked with the opposite sex. But then Jack was parading as someone of the opposite sex, albeit a hairy one. This made sense to Will and so he clung to it having already had enough surprises for one night.

Pushing it to the back of his mind, he focused on the now and the cocky and 'very pleased with myself' look that Jack wore as the two men passed them without incident. He didn't seem worried about what had just happened, even if he had been the one to initiate it. The pirate bent and picked up his bundle happily, this time opting to carry it himself; only fair as it was his and Will still seemed to be in a bit of a daze.

Jack tugged on the boy's arm and they continued on down the street and again a one sided conversation was struck up as Jack talked about things of little importance. So proud of himself with his quick thinking in their last jam and so distracted was Will that they fairly bumped right into Shady Man and his three other followers as they rounded the corner.

The Shady Man gave a gleeful yet sinister grin and made to pull out his pistol when Will felt himself being pushed- by Jack he assumed- through the doorway they were standing next to. Jack who had followed him slammed the door behind him slid the bolt home.

"What is this place?" Will demanded, taking in his gaudy surroundings and the smell of stale sweat and cheap perfume.

Jack chuckled, dumping the swag into Will's arms and pulling off the dress as he led the boy through the room they were in to a hallway filled with what Will could only describe, after the nights events, as nightmares in corsets and too much rouge.

"I believe ye would call it a house of ill repute, dearest William. But I would call it very good luck. Now give me th' gold an' take off that coat…you look utterly ridiculous."

Jack took the bundle again and made his way through giggling girls who squealed with delight when they saw who it was and pawed at the pirate captain's young friend who was indeed pretty even in his present state of flushed anger.

Will ripped off the offending wig and jacket as he was forced to follow the bobbing brown dreadlocks that were beginning to disappear amongst the throng of prostitutes, batting away at unwanted hands in the process. Catching up to Jack, he grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, the pirate dropping the bundle to the floor between them with the force of Will's manipulations.

"How is this", Will motioned erratically at their surroundings, "good luck?! I have yet to see any good luck this night and I well imagine that the day I encounter it again, it will not be because of you!" He spat his words out as if they were venom and is if it pained him to have them in his mouth any longer. 

Voice rising, he continued. "Look at you! You cavort around with these, these people and let them fawn over you as if you were some sort of perverted idol.

"You're like a frightful hurricane, whipping violently and unwanted into other people's lives, shattering the world they know and not giving a damn about it because you're Captain Jack Sparrow, the infallible wonder of the Spanish Main. To be feared and to be weary of. You blasphemous, thieving, false, self indulgent, UNPLEASANT, impudent, whoring, unholy , incorrigible-" Will stopped abruptly. Perhaps it was because of a need to draw breath but more likely it was because of the undeniable twinkle in Jack's eyes and the grin plastered on his face that brought with them a massive revelation to Will.

It had suddenly hit him like an epiphany with incredibly bad timing. 

Jack had been trying to get this sort of rise, this complete and utter over-reaction from Will the entire night.

This part of him, this ill-mannered and contemptuously outspoken character that Will had become tonight was as new to him as this life he'd chosen to start. If prior conversations in Will's life could at all be written down, only the reader and Will himself would ever be privy to the things he had really wanted to say during them. All those times when Brown had gotten the credit for his craftsmanship, all those times he'd been told to remember his place, if only they could have seen the thoughts just bubbling away in his head…but no, he had always kept his mouth shut. But then again, it wasn't really new to him, was it? Less than two months ago, when he'd first come across Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth had been taken by Barbossa- he'd spoken his mind to the Commodore then, hadn't he?

But not before Jack.

Jack was the key element here, he realised. The variable that caused this outcome in the equation of Will's personality. He bounced of Jack and visa versa. They could throw all the insults and curses they whished at each other ad infinitum and it wouldn't matter one bit. Will would be infuriated at times, certainly, but he would be able to put up with it because it simply Did. Not. Matter.

"That's right lad," Jack said, knowing exactly what had just gone through Will's head in that moment and for that instant, his movements were entirely un-Jack like, and instead held a sense of complete sobriety and sincerity. "God 'ad the grace to give you a mind an' a tongue in ye head t' speak it." He put his free arm -he was still holding the dress in the other- around Will's shoulder and pressed the hand to the side of Will's face then planted a firm kiss on the boy's temple not unlike a father would a son. "Can't keep y' in the dark for long, can we whelp? Now let us be gone afore those rogues manage t' find another way in 'ere, hmmm?"

The pirate took the hateful jacket and wig from Will who was looking a little stunned at his own outburst, the dawning realisation that he'd done it in front of these women whom he loathed and despised resting on his youthful features. That they now knew this most intimate part of him when he was only just getting to know it himself…

A heated blush crept over his face and neck and the girls giggled with delight, grabbing at him, enamoured by his innocence and pretty face. Jack batted them away jovially and when one of them, clad in little more than a corset and a slip, pouted and whined in disappointment, he gave her his best charming scallywag grin and handed her the dress in his arms.

Will was knocked back to the here and now by the action and grabbed Jack's forearm. "What are you doing? You can't give that to her. It belonged to Elizabeth." Will would much rather have Jack flaunt around in the dress than have any whore wear it.

"An' Elizabeth gave 'em to you to sell. An' right now, my boy," Jack paused and handed the frock coat to another whore who put it on happily despite it being a man's garment. "We are selling it for our safe passage." The wig was put on the girl's head and raucous laughter followed as she and her colleague now wearing Elizabeth's dress and hat, danced down the corridor with the other ladies clapping and shouting behind.

"That ought to put those bastards off our trail for a while," Jack said, indicating to a door they should walk through and hauling the treasure up over his shoulder like a sack.

Will followed, still put out by the thought of a common prostitute wearing a dress once belonging to his lady love but all the same, quite impressed by Captain Sparrow's ingenuity. The Shady Man would be looking for him and Jack, dressed as he had seen them last but unfortunately for him all he would find was a couple of two bit Tortuga whores.

The two passed through several rooms together, coming finally to a kitchen that had a door leading to yet more Tortuga backstreets. They both listened silently at the door for a minute or two and when they were sure that the coast was clear, they snuck out into the kitchen garden, crushing herbs underfoot and sending a wonderfully calming aroma into the air around them. It bade a nice change from the stinking, putrid odours of the streets they'd been running around in all night but it didn't last long as they stepped through the garden gate and into another one of those stinking streets. They slipped silently up the deserted way although nothing could stop the soft clinking of metal against metal in the makeshift sack OR in Jack's hair.

When they came to an intersection of deserted streets, Jack motioned for them to crouch down; not an easy feat when the cobbles beneath them were slimy with filth. The plan was for Jack to cross the street they'd come to and duck into the continuation of the alley they were on to make sure that it was clear. He would then whistle for Will to follow and from there they would make it down to the beach where the crew of the Pearl had come ashore earlier that day. There would be a boat waiting for them to row back to the ship from the same spot.

Jack handed Will the bundle and gave a wink before sprinting across the darkened street, and disappearing into the shadows on the other side.

Will waited.

His haunches where beginning to ache in that position, the strain of trying to keep sliding on the wet ground plus the added weight of the gold- why oh why had he bothered to bring it?- was almost unbearable. With a quick glance around to make sure there was no one about he stood slowly and waited for Jack's signal.

Thoughts began tumbling through Will's head. What if Jack got in trouble and couldn't signal. What if the pirate got himself killed and Will was stuck here in this hateful world of whores and thieves? What if Jack, at this very moment, was making his way to the boat and to the Pearl without Will? No that was impossible. After all, Will had Jack's treasure- that's why he'd bothered to bring it. But surely, even without the gold, Jack wouldn't leave him here…or would he? Paranoia filled the boy's head and he began to fidget, longing for the whistle that was taking its time to come longing for-wait! A hand on his shoulder! Drop the bundle, spin around, hand on the sword he had at his belt.

A boy, no older that fifteen stood before him. All big eyes, beautiful mocha skin and a dazzling, wanton smile on his perfect, effeminate face.

"Ev'nin' Gov. Nice nigh' for it. Five shillin's for a blow, ten for a go, wha' d'ya say eh?"

Will was speechless. Whatever did the boy mean? "I'm not entirely sure what you're insinuating, young man," he said when he'd finally found the words. And he didn't either. All this was just adding to his former confusions about Jack kissing him. Men simply did not behave in this manner. It was unheard of. Well at least it was unheard of by Will but that didn't mean a lot in the scheme of things.

The boy laughed. "I'm insinuatin' tha' we are both men o' means an' tha' we could both benefit from a lit'le exchange…call it commerce if it makes you feel any bet'er but nothin' can make you feel as good as I can." This was followed by a wink and a cheeky grin that he'd seen not so very long ago on the face of a pirate. Oh the confusion! And whoa! Hand on his shoulder, spin around, trip slightly over the bundle, hand on sword again and- Jack!

"Will! I've been whistling so bloody much I can no longer feel me lips!"

"I-I'm sorry," Will stammered. "I didn't hear, I was-"

"Otherwise occupied," piped up a voice and the boy stepped out from behind Will.

Jack looked from Will to the boy and back again. "Will! Didn't think ye had it in you! Oh but you pick yer times don't ye lad! This isn't exactly wha' I'd call the opportune moment as it were."

Will looked absolutely horrified. He wasn't completely certain of what he was being accused of doing here but he was sure it wasn't proper. If he couldn't fathom it then if definitely was not proper! But the boy stepped in and saved him.

"Not to worry Gov'ner. No transactions 'av been made as of yet. Five shillin's for a suck, ten for a fuck, wha' d'ya say eh?" Grin and a wink. But this time it was mirrored by Jack who was looking the boy up and down and smiling.

"Well aren't you a pretty lit'le thing?" The boy blushed but took the compliments without turning away. "But I'll have to decline this time my darling for the price is too high."

Will had never seen Jack so completely, utterly and charmingly flattering before and to a boy of all people. He was beyond confusion at this point and in need, he thought, of professional help.

Meanwhile the boy's face had fallen. "But that's a third o' th' price o' any whore in Tortuga!"

"I'm not talking of money, my boy, but of my heart because I fear ye'd break it with beauty such as yours and I should fall in love with you and ye'd leave me wanting, always wanting more!"

Will rolled his eyes. Now the pirate was just being plain old melodramatic, he thought, even if he had no understanding of the situation at hand.

Jack bowed and with a flourish, took the giggling boy's hand and peppered the back of it with kisses. He then stood and took three gold sovereigns from a pouch that hung from his belt. Turning the hand over to face palm up, he placed the coins there and folded the youth's fingers around them. "Now off with ye lad! Go find a nice meal and a warm place to sleep and try not to go breaking too many hearts, eh?"

And with that, Will was left to watch the retreating backs of these two very strange people as they set off in their different directions, the boy walking away, singing softly and sweetly about whores and sailors and the swaying figure of Jack whom he followed into the darkened alley across the way.

After that, it didn't take long to get down to the boat without incident and in no time, they were rowing- correction- Will was rowing and Jack was listening to the tale of the demise of Will's engagement to Elizabeth. Will had pushed all thoughts of recent and confusing events firmly to the back of his mind and was up to the bit about the engagement party itself.

"And you were colour coordinated?"

Will sighed. He knew this was coming. "Yes."

Jack howled with laughter. "Oh I should very much like to 'ave seen tha'!"

"Yes, I thought as much. " Will scowled.

"I mean," the pirate dabbed at his eyes, trying to get a bit of control back. "I mean, I saw you in th' coat and the wig and all but I don't think I could ever imagine-"

"Well don't!" Will butted in and continued.

Some moments later, when Will got to the bit about the cutlery and about being at a loss when it came to the dinner party, Jack interrupted again. "Oh, that's easy boy! Start from the outside an' work yer way in."

"Dare I ask how a pirate, such as yourself, would know such a thing?" Will asked, heaving on the ors. He guessed he'd been rowing for about half an hour, keeping close to the shoreline as Jack directed them in the direction of the cove.

"Just because I'm a pirate does not mean I'm uncivilised dear Will. So how did you an' Miss Swann actually break off this engagement? Were their tears an' harsh words and did she beg of you not to leave? Please, don't leave me hangin'!"

"Well that's the thing really. It was painless. Easy, even, once we both realised that the other felt the same way." And he recounted his last walk with Elizabeth along the parapets of the fort.

"And you were finishing each other's sentences like that?" the pirate asked when Will had finished. And when Will nodded, "Well thank God it didn't work out then!"

Will frowned. "Why is that?"

"Because if you two had 'ave married and carried on like that the whole time, the entire town of Port Royal would've been ill from it. How positively sickenin'!" 

Jack laughed as Will scowled at him. "And you, you pirate, are positively-"

"I believe tha' the word yer lookin' for is the same or similar by definition as tha' of 'marvellous'. " Jack cut in with a gold-toothed grin.

"-Infuriating."

"Hmmm. It would seem that at the next major port we come to, I'll have to pick you up a book of synonyms." The pirate looked thoughtful, finger poised on his chin. "That is if ye can read o' course."

"I can read." Will was full of indignation. Even knowing that Jack was purposely antagonising him, it didn't stop the overall effect.

"Oh really…and what wonderful works have ye read then William? Shakespeare? Chaucer perhaps?"

Will opened his mouth to reply.

"An' the bible doesn't count."

Will shut his mouth again.

Jack smirked. "What about writing? Can ye do that?"

"I can write my name." Will felt uncomfortable having his abilities questioned by Jack.

Jack locked aghast. "What? No love letters for Elizabeth? No sonnets or poems to express your undying- well undying while it lasted- love for her?" Jack stood and the boat rocked crazily. It was all Will could do to keep them from capsizing.

Jack ignored all protests and cleared his throat, arms out and crowed to the moon;

"_Dearest Elizabeth,_

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Well looky 'ere, a pile of hay

Shall we roll in it as we fornic-"

"JACK!"

"What? Ye didn't like fornicate? How about copulate? Tha' fits just as nicely."

"Just sit down!"

When the pirate refused to do so, Will rocked the boat until Jack was forced to sit or fall into the water.

Jack sniffed. "You wouldn't know good poetry if it came up an' presented itself to you as the Queen of Sheba." He took in the dark look that covered Will's face. "Now now Will. No need to get touchy. Yer good with your hands. You make beautiful things with those hands. I don't need you t' read an' write, I need you to be as caring as you are with those swords you craft an' look after me Pearl. You'll be the best bosun on th' Seven Seas."

Will blushed. And there went the pirate with the compliments again. The compliments that Will didn't know how to take and so he changed the subject, happy to have a little control over where the conversation was going. "So when will the crew be expecting you?"

"Oh about two hours ago I'd say."

"What?!"

"Don't worry Will, it makes not much of a difference."

"But what about keeping to the code?"

Jack frowned. "What about it?"

" 'Anyone who falls behind gets left behind'," Will prompted.

Jack's eyes widened. "Oh that…" then he smiled. "I amended that one."

"Right, of course," Will said as if he were agreeing that it was the obvious thing to do. "So what is it now?"

" 'Anyone who falls behind gets left behind unless said anyone is Captain Jack Sparrow'…'and anyone in his company'…I just added that bit then," he said, waving his hand around.

Will shook his head. He wasn't quite sure how that worked but he didn't much care as they rounded a small rocky outcrop and the Black Pearl came into view, the moon shining on her and bathing her in dappling, blue light. He heard Jack sigh and knew that he'd made the right choice, that this was undoubtedly where he was meant to be; with the sea, with the Pearl and above all, with Jack.


	8. Chapter 8

TITLE: The Turning of the Tides 8/?

AUTHOR: Seraphina )

PAIRING: eventual Jack/Will slash

RATING: over all R but varying (anything above will be censored and the original posted on )

SUMMARY: Now aboard the Blach Pearl, Will finds some interesting characters have joined her crew in the months since he last saw Jack.

DISCALIMER: not mine, never were and unfortunately never will be.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: much silliness in this chapter, just getting in some slapstick beofre we get to the serious stuff. There is some talk of religion and i'd just like to stress that i accept all religions, just not a lot of things done in their name. My point is that the views in this chapter towards certain religions are not my own, just going with beliefs of the time.

CHAPTER 8

Will gave the stair one final bang with a hammer then setting the tool down gently on the deck beside him, he stood slowly and placed a shod foot on the piece of wood in question. Then, rubbing his hands together and praying to every deity he'd ever heard of, he put his weight on the foot now resting on the step.

SQUEAK

"Confound it to hell!!!" he cried, kicking the step and stubbing his toe, which only produced a flow of expletives the likes of which he was sure he'd never used before this week. This week being his first as part of the crew of the Black Pearl. Bosun, to be exact and the last four days had been filled with him fixing everything that needed to be fixed and even the odd thing that didn't.

A dud cannon that apparently had never worked had been mended within an hour, a flaw in one of the anchor chains had been repaired, cutlasses and swords were sharpened and polished and left looking better than they ever had since they'd been pilfered from the dead and a new down pipe had been constructed to increase water catchments into the rain barrels on deck.

Now he was down to the most mundane of tasks like the squeaky stair for instance, as Jack ran out of things for him to do. Not that he'd seen the pirate captain much over their days at sea and Will was surprised to find him self experiencing an odd sense of loss at this. He'd assumed that once he started his life on board the Pearl, everything would right itself but he was missing Jack's company. Naturally he would never admit this to anyone least of all himself and put it down to the fact that Jack was the person he knew the best on board and once he made newer and stronger acquaintances among the crew, this feeling would go away.

Of course he was already familiar with some of the faces; The quartermaster Gibbs and Jack's unlikely first mate Anamaria. He also knew Mr. Cotton and subsequently Mr. Cotton's parrot. There were other remnants of the motley crew that they had picked up in Tortuga the month or so before but there were also many he didn't know. He'd never had the pleasure of meeting the former bosun, Jamie, or "poor Jamie" as everyone seemed to refer to him as, and was never likely to as the situation stood. But they all seemed amicable enough and if they were loyal to Jack then he was bound to find some worthy companions among their ranks.

All this aside, Will was hating the task at hand. The problem being that Will held no particular respect for wood and visa versa it would seem as he hopped around the deck, toe throbbing and wishing for all the world that the Pearl was made of iron…except of course for the part where if that were the case, they would, the whole lot of them, be on very close terms with the bottom of the Caribbean Sea and permanent residents of Davey Jone's locker. But that was not the point.

The reason for this seemingly mutual disrespect was that Will could not manipulate wood as he could metal. He couldn't bend it and shape it and make it into something as beautiful and heart felt as he could with his carefully crafted swords. He didn't mind feeling the odd burn from the sparks of red hot metal, and sometimes welcomed it as it made him think that he was putting his whole self into whatever it was he was creating at the time.

Metal did not insist on stubbing his toe.

Well, he'd be damned if he spent another minute on trying to rid the stair of its squeak and he sat down on it, ignoring its groan of protest -a mocking groan if ever there was one as if it were trying to make the point that it had gotten the better of him- and pulled off his shoe.

Examining the digit, he noted with some pique that the joint was already swelling. The idea that maybe he should seek out Ezra Spinoza, the Black Pearl's newly acquired physician to take a look at it briefly crossed the blacksmith's mind, but he quickly thought better of it.

The funny little Jew was indeed talented beyond belief in his chosen profession; Will's now painless ribs attesting strongly to this, it was just some of his methods that tended to put everyone off.

On the night that Jack had brought him back to the ship from Tortuga, the crew, both old and new, had greeted Will with warmth and enthusiasm. And then the way had parted and a strange little man with tufts of grey hair sprouting crazily from his head, including his ears and the tip of his nose on which a pair of spectacles perched, had appeared before him. Sharp eyes stared out from behind the glass lenses and it seemed to Will that nothing could be kept from this man that he wouldn't see.

Without a 'hello' or 'how do you do', the fellow strode up to Will, mind you, he barely reached the boy's chest in height, and tugged at the torn shirt.

"Well come on boy, off with it!"

A very affronted looking Will stared down slack jawed at the man and Jack moved to stand between them.

"Spinoza," the warning but tired tone in Jack's voice had suggested that it was not unusual for the funny little character to be acting in such an abrupt manor. "He's fine an' is not in need of any of yer particular attentions."

Just what those particular attentions were, Will had no idea at present as he continued to stare dumbfounded at this new acquaintance.

"I'll be the judge of that," declared Spinoza as he pushed the captain roughly out of the way and looked Will up and down. "And he is not fine. The ribs is it boy?"

Will's eyes widened to impossible diameters and he stammered; "H-how did you know?"

Spinoza threw his hands up in the air and addressed the crew that stood around them. "How did I know?! How did I know he asks?" And then to Will, "Because it is my job to know, dear boy!" He thrust a wrinkled and seemingly oversized hand for one so small towards Will. "Ezra Spinoza, physician to the crew of the Black Pearl, herbalist, acupuncturist,-"

"Satanist!" some one from the crew yelled out followed by a response of laughing and clapping.

Spinoza scowled but was otherwise unperturbed. "What's your name, boy? I must know who it is that I am diagnosing to be able to do so properly."

Will's mind was still reeling from the satanist comment and it seemed that Spinoza had picked up on this too.

"Don't worry lad. I'm no Satanist but I suppose to this bunch unenlightened ignorami, it is synonymous with being Jewish. Get your heads around that men, and I'll be pleasantly surprised! Couldn't come up with a sentence of polysyllabics for all the rum in the Caribbean! And why aren't we moving?! Haul anchor or something! The sooner we get out of here the better!"

The pirates had muttered and cursed as they moved off to their respective posts, some disappearing below to catch some sleep, other swinging themselves up into the rigging and the Pearl groaned as they got underway.

Will stared in disbelief as the crew followed the orders of this little man but even more impossible to comprehend was the sight of Jack, standing by and watching this go on. Surely as captain, he wouldn't let Gibbs, let alone this strange little fellow claiming to be a physician, give orders without his permission.

As it was, Jack turned to the two of them with no comment on what had just happened and said with a flourish of the hand, "Ezra Spinoza, I give ye Will Turner, Bosun to the Black Pearl an' very dear friend to her captain."

Will blushed.

Spinoza snorted. "Is that so? Well I wouldn't be surprised if your bosun has a cracked rib or two. Look at the way he's standing man! What good will he be to you then?"

Jack frowned as he gave Will the once over. "Nonsense! Nothin' wrong with 'im. Right Will?!" Jack slapped him hard on the back.

Will groaned.

Spinoza lifted an extremely hairy eyebrow. "Indeed. And how is your urine Master Turner?"

Will thought that there was nothing more that night that could shock him but as it stood he had been very wrong. "My ur- I'm sorr- WHAT?!"

"Your urine boy. Is it clear or cloudy? Acidic or not? Pungent? You can tell a lot about a man from the appearance, smell and taste of his piss." Spinoza pushed his spectacles back up his hairy nose and gazed at Will expectantly.

"Pungent? Taste?! I…I…" Will was lost for words. As far as he was concerned, his piss was like any other. He'd never really paid any special attention to it and it was certainly not polite to hold a conversation about such things he was fairly sure. All in all it had always seemed a fairly generic sort of thing to him but apparently not. And this bizarre character standing before him was enquiring after his…enquiring after the taste of all things. It was completely and utterly preposterous not to mention completely and utterly foul. But then again he was on a pirate ship and these things were to be expected. But urine? No nothing could have prepared him for this.

Turning to Jack for some assistance in the matter he found the pirate, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "Spinoza," Jack's voice sounded pained. "Please try an' refrain from scarin' me bosun away before he's even settled in. And Will," he said turning to the wide-eyed lad standing next to him. "Don't be takin' any offense to wha' the little devil says. If it's broken ribs ye've got, well he'll fix ye right up t' be sure. Although jus' how ye broke them is quite beyond me comprehension." Jack didn't seem to notice Will's look of disbelief at the last comment and continued on. "Now, your quarters will be with th' rest o' th' crew below deck although if you're injured mayhap a palliasse would be better suited to yer needs than a hammock an- yes Gibbs, what is it?"

Will hadn't even noticed the quartermaster's approach as he was still trying to get over one shock after another. He silently welcomed the return of the old sailor though as he'd been decent to him on his last stint at sea and was also fairly normal. And by God, was Will clutching for normality now! A lad about Will's age stood next to Gibbs, a piece of paper clutched in his filthy hand.

"Cap'n," Gibbs started, addressing Jack by his proper title and scowling slightly at his own proximity to Spinoza. "Robby 'ere 'as somethin' I'm mighty sure ye'll be interess'ed in." The older man gave the youth, who was perhaps a head shorter than Will and just as slightly built, a nudge toward his captain.

Jack squinted at the young pirate in front of him, evidently not recognizing him as one of his crew. But then again, a lot of them had only joined him in the last few weeks so who could blame him if he hadn't committed each and every one to memory yet? Especially one as non-descript as this Robby. Lanky, but not tall, mousy hair that stood up at odd angles and was that stubble trying desperately to squeeze itself out of that filthy face? Definitely nothing memorable about him. Not pretty like his Will…hang on a second where had that come from? Jack frowned, pushing THAT little thought to the back of his mind where it surely belonged and tilted his head back, looking down his aquiline nose at the boy.

"Well come on lad. What've ye got for ol' Jack?"

The youth handed the paper in his grasp to Jack. The pirate captain opened it and began to read it's contents, eyes darting quickly from side to side as he devoured each line of writing.

Will watched, fascinated at the way the kohl around the pirate captain's eyes made the whites look so bright. He hadn't remembered the effect of the black outline to be so striking.

His captain's frown was lifting and a smile broke across his features as he looked up from the paper at Robby.

"Just who did you pilfer this off son?" he asked, handing the paper to Spinoza without looking at the physician.

Robby, evidently eager to please, smiled earnestly. "A man in th' Bride. Well t' do chap I reckon, Cap'n. Merchant or some such. Looked right out o' place in there 'e did so I slipped me 'and in is' pocket…thought 'e might 'ave a bit o' coin or one o' them fancy pocket watches what fellas like 'im tend ta 'ave and I found tha'. Didn't think nothin' much o' it to tell the truth Cap'n wha' wiv me no' bein' able to read naught much an' all but then master Gibbs 'ere, well he saw me wiv a couple o' the other lads tryin' to make a paper boat out o' it an' he read it an'…well 'ere we are."

Jack tugged at the twin plaits of his beard as if in thought. "Here you are indeed. Ye do realize tha' this is a manifest of every merchant ship sailin' into the Caribbean for the next month don't ye lad?" he asked, addressing Robby.

"Aye Cap'n. Tha's wha' master Gibbs 'ere told me."

"An' do y' also realize that it names their exact routes, ports o' call an' number o' souls on board then?" Jack's grin was growing wider and wider.

Robby's grin seemed to be growing exponentially to the older pirate's. "Aye Cap'n."

"An' are ye aware of what this information might mean to a lot o' scallywags such as…well such as ourselves?"

Robby nodded so hard that Will feared his head may just fall right off. But he could see why Jack, Gibbs and the boy would be so excited about such information coming their way.

Looking at Spinoza who was folding the paper and handing it back to the captain, he didn't miss that the physician's face was void of the same fervor and he wondered why. Such information would mean that the crew of the Pearl would know almost the exact location of merchant ships over the course of the next month. Ships laden with supplies from all corners of the earth. Not only would they be aware of the location of said ships but also of the number of their crew meaning they could pick off the smaller ones easily and leave the well manned ones alone. This meant minimal risk to the pirate crew.

Well the other three's enthusiasm more than made up for Spinoza's lack of it and Will supposed that he was happy too…at least he supposed he should have been. In point of fact, he was unsure of how he felt. After all, he had once been travelling on a merchant ship that had fallen victim to pirates on his crossing from England. Not altogether an enjoyable experience but then again, Jack Sparrow was no Barbossa and if they did pick the ships with smaller crews the likes of which were most likely surrender to a pack of scoundrels such as themselves rather than try and put up a fight, well that wouldn't be too bad now would it?

Will guessed that he would find out soon enough where it was exactly that he stood on such a subject but by the time he did it would be too late to do much about it. Indeed it was probably too late now as he'd already accepted Jack's offer to be his bosun. He was a pirate now and pirates attacked and robbed merchant ships, no two ways about it. Will's hand came up to scratch the back of his neck as he pondered this piece of information a bit more, watching the last bit of land slip away on the port side of the Pearl as they left Tortuga behind.

Jack in the meantime was positively elated and gave Robby a pat on the back.

"Pity it doesn't list their cargo but never look a gift horse in the mouth as they say! Gibbs," he barked to the quartermaster. "An extra ration o' rum for young Robby 'ere. That'll put some hair on his chest," he grabbed an equally delighted Robby's chin and scrutinized over the boys face. "An' his chin!"

The three laughed again in great manly and pirate like jubilation and with a signal from Jack, Robby climbed up the stairs to the poop deck to tend to the shrouds on the mizzenmast. Jack then turned to Will who was still poring over his thoughts; the pirate captain's smile unwavering. He grasped Will's shoulder and the smith jumped having been interrupted from his reverie.

"Right Will, ye'll go with Spinoza below deck. He'll tend to yer ails an' see you settle in alright. Meself an' Mr Gibbs in the interim will be in my cabin," he said indicating to the door behind him with his head, trinkets tinkling as he did so. "Where we will be decidin' on th' best course of action with regards to acquiring a fair an' decent amount o' swag!" The pirate threw his arms open and looked up at the clear night sky. "What a fortuitous evening this has been! First I find me Will and then this lovely LOVELY piece of parchment is delivered into me very own hands." He then clutched the paper to his chest before stuffing it into a pouch that hung from the leather baldric that crossed his chest from the shoulder. He then looked at Will, his smile faltering a little. "What is it Will? What's the matter?"

For Will's expression was thunderous indeed. He pulled Jack closer too him. "You're leaving me alone…with HIM?" he hissed looking over Jack's shoulder at Spinoza who although was not as yet saying anything more, was rolling his eyes at the signs Joshamee Gibbs was making at him to ward off evil. "He wants to taste my urine for the love of God!" The doctor chose that moment to look up at Will, the little man's mouth quirking slightly as he seemed to read the youth's face. Will tried to smile in an attempt to hide his topic of conversation with Jack but he had the distinct impression that it was useless.

As it was, Jack pulled away, laughing again and looking back and forth between his bosun and his doctor. "Not to worry Will. Spinoza's not a bad old stick, even if he does worship the devil." Jack was educated enough to know that this was not at all true but enjoyed stirring the pot a bit. He winked at the old man who appeared not to worry about such comments from the pirate, quite aware that it was all in fun. "I'll look in on you later when you're all fixed up. But for now, there's work to be done. Gibbs! Find me some rum an' meet me in my cabin presently!" Jack then slapped Will on the back in a friendly fashion that didn't feel too friendly to Will who winced as once again the pain flared up in his ribs before Jack spun around on his heel and sashayed towards his cabin, arms out in his usual manner and disappeared through the door.

Will watched the captain's retreat with panic and quite a bit of pain then turned to look nervously at Ezra Spinoza. The physician gave him a reassuring smile.

"Don't look so forlorn young master Turner. Despite what these lot and many others believe, the people of David do not worship the devil."

Will chuckled warily and began to follow the little man to the stairs that led below deck. Then Spinoza stopped abruptly and turned to face the smith again.

And with a friendly jovial grin, announced, "We just killed your messiah!"

Will shifted on the dirty old palliasse, trying not to think about the possible vermin that could very well have been nesting in it. Then again, he doubted they would have hung around after smelling the concoction Spinoza was currently heating over a small brazier. There was the definite smell of vinegar in there along with the unmistakable odor of melting wax.

"There now," Spinoza said, taking the small pan off the heat and setting it on the shelf above the palliasse. "That should just about do it."

Will looked up at him with skepticism from his position on the floor. The palliasse was one of four set up at one end of the middle deck. After that, hammock upon hammock ran for at least one half of the deck, the other half, barely visible to Will through the throng of swinging canvas except for lanterns that were lit up there, was filled with bolted down tables where the crew took their meals and rested when off duty. Several of the hammocks were currently occupied by snoring, farting men who either couldn't smell or were used to the revolting stench wafting from Ezra Spinoza's alleged infirmary. As well as the four foul looking mattresses, a desk was set up and shelves above it full of herbs, infusions and tinctures with a fiddle rail around the edge, supposedly to keep the small bottles from flying off in rough seas. If the weather got really brutal though, Will doubted it would save the collection at all.

Spinoza followed the lad's gaze and nodded. "Yes, I know it's not the best way of housing them," he said, seemingly reading Will's mind again. "But until I'm able to find a decent cabinet maker in the next port as well as some glass, I'm afraid it will have to suffice. But that's another matter altogether." He turned back to Will. "Are you ready master Turner?" He motioned with his head to the pan on the shelf.

"I'm to drink it?!" Will was mortified. He wouldn't be able to swallow something that smelt like that. Not to mention the fact there was wax in it.

Ezra threw back his head and laughed. "Of course not lad! It's a fomentation…for a dressing."

Will sighed with relief and watched with mild disgust as hairy hands first sprinkled salt on and then removed the four fat leeches that had been placed on the rapidly bruising ribs of the young smith cum bosun. The leeches were then thrown into the brazier and he cringed as he heard them burst with the heat.

Some remarkably clean bandages were produced from somewhere and the hairy hands proceeded to dip them into the pot and then fold them over the darkened ribs. Will hissed and winced slightly at the heat of the wax but then relaxed as it began to cool and mould to his skin.

"Wormwood for the swelling," the doctor narrated as another bandage went on. "Elder for the bruising, comfrey for healing and marjoram for the pain."

Will tried to ignore the voice in his head that scolded him and told him that he wouldn't be in such a position if he'd stayed in Port Royal and accepted his place and craned his neck to watch the process with a sense of uneasy fascination. Once the ribs were covered with the ointment infused bandages, Spinoza began strapping them on using strips of torn linen. His hands were remarkably gentle for such a rude little individual, and Will felt greatly indebted to him.

"You know," he started as Spinoza motioned for him to sit up slightly in order to strap the linen around his chest and over his shoulder. "I could fashion you a rack of sorts for your bottles and such and attach it to the wall…I was a blacksmith you see. It wouldn't be difficult."

The older man smiled and pushed Will to lie down again. "That would be greatly appreciated, Master Turner, but I doubt that your captain would agree to having you do such menial tasks as that when there's a whole ship to look after."

Will frowned and thought for a second. "I'll have a word with Jack," he said firmly. "I know I can persuade him."

"There is no doubt in my mind that you can."

What was that supposed to mean? And what was that quirk in the corner of the old man's mouth? Will closed his eyes so that he didn't have to look at that little quirk and changed the subject, listening to the soft groan of the Pearl and she made her way through the water on her way to God knows where.

"How did you come to be on the Pearl?" Will asked quietly as Ezra Spinoza fastened the last of the linen to his chest. "Your name, 'Spinoza'…it's Spanish isn't it?"

Ezra chuckled at the boy's intuitiveness. "Ever heard of the Sephardi, Master Turner?"

"Will, please call me Will. And no I haven't." He cracked open an eyelid slightly as he heard Spinoza moving about. Seeing that the man was only cleaning up after himself he closed it again and relaxed, the strange aromas from the dressing mixing and making him a little drowsy. "What is it?"

Again there came a short chuckle accompanied by the clinking of miniature bottles. "Not 'what' Will, 'who'. 'Who are THEY?' in fact. They are the Jews of Iberian descent. That is to say, from those expelled from Spain and Portugal during the inquisition. They fled all over Europe and some even back to the homeland, to Israel. My people escaped first to Germany but they were still dogged by the Dominicans and so they moved north to the Netherlands and finally east and over the sea to England. I'm a White chapel lad myself…not much different to you I should imagine." He picked up Will's shirt after putting everything back in it's place and finding a needle usually reserved for the suturing of blade and bullet wounds, he took a seat at his desk and began to repair the damage done to the garment by the harlots of Tortuga. "As for how I ended up here, well I guess it's a similar story to that of many on board the Pearl and by that I mean that I'm here quite by accident."

Will wasn't here by accident the smith thought to himself drowsily, he was here because he wanted to be here on the Black Pearl, because he had purposely sought out her rogue pirate captain. Yawning, he continued to listen to Ezra's story.

"In White chapel, I did much the same as what I'm doing here; I was a physician and a good one but only ever did I treat other members of the Jewish community. Safer that way you see. The reaction towards us is much the same everywhere you go. Many Christians are superstitious like Master Gibbs who is unquestionably certain that I will bring you all bad luck despite the fact that I no longer practice my faith. It doesn't matter how much I try to assure him that a drunken quartermaster and equally drunken captain is bound to bring us a good deal more bad luck than I am. He is quite convinced that he is right."

Will chuckled and nodded his agreement. That sounded exactly like the Joshamee Gibbs he knew.

Spinoza continued with his story.

"Sadly, one day, not so very long ago, I made the mistake of agreeing to help deliver the baby of a Christian woman, the wife of a cleric actually as there was no one else available. The child was breach and no one could have saved the both of them. I was caught between a rock and a hard place as the saying goes and so I opted to save the life of the mother as I was fairly certain the babe would not have survived long anyway. The husband came home and found out what had happened and I was forced to flee the country as he'd accused me of both witchcraft and murder. And so I escaped to the Americas, a new start in mind and nothing to lose. I'd never married and any other family had died when I was young. I was free, so to speak."

Just like Will. He was free, no family to speak of. There was of course Elizabeth whom he would always love but not even that could keep him happy and in Port Royal. The truth was, he didn't know what would make him happy but now that he was on the Pearl, and adventure was at his fingertips, he was sure to find whatever it was he was looking for. But for now, lying on that palliasse which wasn't too bad if you didn't think about it, rest sounded like it would keep him happy enough.

"One day," Spinoza kept going with the story. " As I sat in a tavern in Santo Domingo, considering my options, of which there were few, a brawl broke out between patrons. I sat under a table in the corner of the tavern, not wanting a bar of it and unable to make it to the door without going through the melee. So I'm sitting there, drinking my ale and who should crawl under there, pistol in hand and a bullet lodged in his left buttock, looking for shelter, but the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. We got to chatting under that table as the brawl wore on for a good hour and I happened to mention my profession and we came to an accord. He would get us out of the bar unscathed on the proviso that I would dig the iron pellet out of his arse and sew him up again later. And he did, and so I did.

"That was just under a month ago and I'm still here and it's thanks to me that there will be hardly a scar left on his majesty's piratey behind. Speaking of the devil," he said, looking up as he tied a knot in the thread he was mending Will's shirt with to see Captain Jack, arms folded and moustache jerking as he tried not to smile but instead look the part of a serious pirate captain.

"Tell me Spinoza," he said loftily, the usual growl in his voice. "Just how often do your conversations revert to the subject of my derriere?"

At the sound of Jack's voice, Will who was a little slow with the heady scent of herbs that surrounded him, jerked up, his head connecting with the shelf above the palliasse. He saw Jack standing there smirking and suddenly felt very naked without his shirt. Looking around wildly for it, he saw it in the hands of Spinoza who was just beginning work on a new tear.

"Not as often as you should like, I'm sure," the old man said, looking sternly over his spectacles at Will who sat rubbing his head and staring longingly at his shirt, then up at Jack and then back at his shirt again. "I didn't just spend a good hour patching you up, Master Turner, for you to be creating more work for me. Lie down and if you're cold, there's a blanket at your feet."

Will looked at Spinoza strangely. The air that evening was quite warm and so it was highly unlikely that Will would be cold. Old eyes looked back at him evenly and appeared to read him like an open book. The doctor knew he wanted to be covered and had made an excuse for him. Thankfully, he grabbed for the blanket, lay back down and quickly drew it up over his naked chest.

Jack watched all this with a frown on his face. Something had just happened, and he'd be damned if he knew what. Shame the lad had covered up though…hang on a second, where had that come from? Shaking his head he looked to Spinoza.

"So ye've fixed 'im up then?"

"I have," the doctor said stiffly, needle darting in and out of the cotton shirt at a astonishing speed, stitches so small and neat it was a wonder there'd be a scar left on Jack's arse at all! "Although prevention, I find, is always the best remedy." He paused his hand and now looked meaningfully at Jack over the top of his lenses. Will had explained to him how the cracked ribs had come about, but it would seem that Jack was oblivious.

The pirate frowned and cocked his head to the side having no idea what Spinoza was insinuating. "Yes, I guess it would be." He shook his head as if to rid it of confusion then smiled down at Will once more. "Will me lad…how IS your urine?"

Will groaned and pulled the blanket up over his head, cursing Jack for reminding the little old man of something he seemed to have forgotten to do.

Ezra snorted. "Thought we'd forgo that one tonight. It's late and he needs rest. But I'll be checking on it tomorrow morning, and the next morning, and possibly every morning for the next week." 

Another groan emanated from beneath the blanket.

A small smile skipped across the physician's mouth. "But apart from that, he'll be ready to do your bidding tomorrow, whatever that might be." Again the smile played over the old man's mouth.

"Quite." Jack gave Spinoza a sidelong glance full of confusion. What the hell was that supposed to mean? "Well, there's a cannon needs seein' to. That's number one priority seein' as we'll be needin' it afore the week's out."

Will's head popped out from the cover, his curls a wavy mess around his flushed face. It was bloody hot under that blanket! "What do you mean we'll be needing cannons?" he asked, a little alarmed.

Jack looked at him, a little surprised. What did the boy think they'd be needing them for? He didn't carry around the bloody great hulking things for show, that was for certain. "We're headed for the Virgin Islands. According to the manifest young Robby lifted off that fellow in the Bride, there'll be several small merchant ships coming through that way throughout the week. We need the cannons to do a bit of pirating Will. Doubtful that we'll get to use 'em though," he said, reassuring Will and hoping to God that the lad was up to it. He had wanted to be a pirate after all. "One look at Spinoza 'ere and we'll have the whole lot o' them surrendering!"

At that, Will laughed. Spinoza couldn't hide his smile either as he shooed Jack out of his infirmary telling him that his bosun needed rest if he was to start his orders the following day, providing of course that his urine was clear!

Spinoza had kept his word too, and badgered Will every morning for a sample of his home brew. But this morning, Will had tried his best to avoid the little man. The poor boy was having performance anxiety and couldn't have squeezed a drop out if his life depended on it. His toe, therefore would have to remain unseen by the doctor and he would have to find something else to keep him occupied because the stair he was sitting on presently was not going to stop squeaking unless he pulled the whole thing off. 

He slid his shoe back on, sans stockings as after a week's wear without rest or wash, they were tattered and dark grey and had been finally thrown overboard.

Grabbing the hammer he'd place on deck, Will stood and the stair groaned again as it was relieved of his weight.

Sighing, he walked over to one of the rainwater barrels, placed the tool on the wood that covered half of it and scooped water up in his hands, pouring it over his head and face. The cool liquid was refreshing on his flushed and sweating skin and he considered finding something to do below deck, out of the cruel rays of the sun that were currently beating down unmercifully on him. But as he wiped the water from his eyes, he saw a head covered with tufts of crazy grey hair protruding from it, appear from below deck, it's owner obviously looking for someone as he searched the stern of the boat with his eyes.

Will looked around frantically for somewhere to hide before Spinoza decided to look his way. After assessing his situation quickly, Will decided there was only one place for him to go and that was through the door behind him; the door to Jack's cabin.

Slipping in, Will closed the door silently behind him. He didn't want Spinoza to hear the clicking of the catch after all. He stood for a second, against the wooden panel, not daring to even move his hand off the handle lest he give the game away. After a few seconds, Will let out his breath, not even aware that he had been holding it in the first place. 

Confident that he hadn't been seen but not willing to leave just yet, Will turned around to examine his surroundings.

He had never before been in Jack's cabin. The only time he'd spent on the Pearl in the past had in fact been when Barbossa was captain and then most of the visit had been spent in the brig. It would seem that the captain's quarters somewhat nicer than the brig.

Carved mahogany paneling stained so dark it was almost black covered every wall but ample windows made from distorted glass would make sure that there was sufficient lighting when the heavy red curtains were drawn. Only half of the drapes were open at present and oil lamps supplied the rest of the light spilling over a table in the middle of the room, a desk and a massive armoire on the portside wall and a spacious bed built into the far wall, the grid window behind looking out onto the wake the Pearl left behind her. No hammocks or stinking palliasses for Captain Jack Sparrow, thank you very much.

Other furniture was dotted around the room; stuffed chairs, side tables and the like, all of which Will assumed would be bolted firmly to the floor. But all this was inconsequential because this wasn't what Will noticed first. The primary thing that hit him as he gazed around the room was…it looked like the entire royal navy had seen fit to declare war on it and had done so without mercy. Maps were everywhere, not even concentrated to one area in fact but literally everywhere. On the table, on the floor, even strewn over the bed. The desk top -a pull down affair that could be pushed up and locked- looked as though it had not seen the light of day in a decade even though it must have only become this way since Jack had reclaimed the ship; a little over a month.

Will walked over to the desk now and stared down at the pile of papers that littered it, a frown crossed his face as he tried to determine what an open book on top of the pile was. There were columns drawn up and they were filled with numbers, lots of numbers. Will may not be able to read very well but he understood figures and knew that in one column there were dates and in the columns next to them were very large numbers. He suddenly realized that they were profit margins. What the devil did a pirate need to record profit margins for?

He was reaching down to flip back a page when then flat of a sword slapped down on his wrist. Will reeled back with shock and looking up sharply, found himself face to face with Captain Jack Sparrow and a sword pointed at his throat.

Will laughed with relief. "Oh Jack, I didn't even hear you come. I was so busy-"

"Snooping?" Jack finished for him, raising an eyebrow and showing no sign of lowering the sword.

Will's eyes flew wide open. "You are joking aren't you? Even if I wanted to snoop it would be next to impossible in a place like this. Jack, your quarters are truly disgusting." The lad crinkled his nose and cast another look around the room as he said this quite unsure of where one would begin should one wish to undertake the task of cleaning it up.

Jack lowered the sword, smiling broadly as if he'd just been paid a great compliment. "And perhaps tha' is the very reason for which I do it dear William." He placed the sword back in his baldric and leant on the table with one hand. "So if you weren't snooping, wha' brings ye to me quarters?"

Free from the blade at his throat, Will stepped forward and began flipping through the book as he'd been trying to do before Jack had caught him thinking it unlikely that the state of the room had anything to do with tactics and everything to do with the fact that its resident was a pig. Said porcine pirate watched the smith intently. "I was avoiding Spinoza," he said, not looking up from the book.

"Ahhh, " Jack replied with understanding as Will turned his head side ways in an attempt to read what was written in the margin. He was unsuccessful as the words were too long and unfamiliar. He would have to do something about teaching Will to read and write. Perhaps lessons during a dogwatch? Two hours each afternoon with him and he'd have the boy reading anything written in proper English and even some that wasn't. He wasn't game to broach the subject now however. Will was embarrassed about his illiteracy. He'd have to butter him up first…but that was for another day. "After your piss again is he?"

Will was only half listening though as he pored over the book. "What?" he asked glancing up quickly at Jack and then back down to the book. "Oh, yes, he is."

Jack frowned. "Why not jus' give 'im some then an' be done with it?"

"Because I can't go under pressure," Will said, blushing violently and then changing the subject. "These are profit margins aren't they?"

"Aye."

"What need have you to record profit margins?" Will asked incredulously. "You're a bloody pirate!"

"Will, Will, Will," Jack said with a flourish of his free hand, the other still was on the desk although he wasn't resting much of his weight on it. Too much more and the whole thing was likely to snap off. "Piracy is a profession lad. I run a business here. It is my job to make ends meet, to feed and pay me crew so that they in turn make me more profit. If I didn't keep a record of it, well, I'd be up the proverbial shit creek, would I not?"

Will snorted, still looking over the numbers and doing quick calculations in his head. "I guess so but you've made an error here."

Jack's theatrical demeanor dropped and he looked at the book. "What? Impossible! I check them over at least three times before I record anything!"

"Well that's as the case may be but you've definitely made a mistake here and come to think of it…right here too which means that these, these and these calculations must be out also." The youth jabbed at the book with his index finger to show Jack what he meant then grabbed one of a dozen quills that were scattered around the desktop. He then proceeded to try to find an inkpot among the debris, which was proving to be highly unachievable until Jack produced one from under several maps, a candle and an empty bottle of rum. He also handed Will a sheet of clean white parchment.

"What's this for?" Will asked, looking at the paper in Jack's hand and then up at the pirate himself.

"To do your calculations on."

Will waved it away and dipped the quill in the ink, turning back to the book. "I don't need that, I'll do it in my head."

And to Jack's amazement he did and within five minutes, the figures for that entire week were completely redone by one William Turner who upon completion of his task, set down the quill, stood up straight and looked at his Captain.

"What?" Jack's jaw had dropped and he had no idea why.

"What?! Ye jus' did that all in yer noggin, that's what!" he said, tapping the side of Will's head.

Will was confused. "Of course I did. How else was I to do it?"

Jack shook his head, beads and charms tinkling in his hair. "Will, wha' ye just did then took me three hours, two quills, a whole pile of parchment and a bottle of rum to complete…and even then I got it wrong."

"Perhaps if you left out the rum…?"

Jack waved his hand dismissing Will's last comment. He scratched his chin, his head tilted and thought for a moment that perhaps this was the opportune moment to broach the subject after all…

"Will, I 'ave a proposition for you, mate."

Will looked at him warily but with expectation. Propositions from Jack Sparrow could as a rule go one of many ways, most of them bad but he heard the pirate out all the same.

"Evidently yer familiar with book keeping."

Will nodded. "I did them for the forge. Brown was always to inebriated to remember."

Jack nodded. "Thought as much. What would ye say if I asked you to do mine for me? I mean there'd be a lot less to it…no taxes and tha' sort o' rot and you can teach yer captain how you do those calculations quick smart in tha' head of yours."

"And?" Will prodded. There was more to this, he was certain of it.

"An' in return, 'ol Jack 'ere will teach his delightful new bosun t' read an write all nice like so tha' he may write all th' love letters he likes to whomever his heart desires."

Will frowned uncertainly, and, for a moment Jack feared he had perhaps over stepped the mark and that this hadn't been the opportune moment after all but then the smith nodded and stuck out his hand.

"We 'ave an' accord then?"

"I guess we do Captain Sparrow," Will replied as Jack took the proffered hand and shook it.

Jack looked very happy with himself as he slammed the book shut and put it aside. "Good, now that that's settled then, I think that I may be able to help you with yer Spinoza problem."

Will raised an eyebrow as he began to explore the room a little more, turning over maps to find more maps and more quills and you guessed it, more empty rum bottles. At least the bulk of the mess was made up of paper, which meant there was no real smell that accompanied it, just the benign odor of the captain himself plus something else that Will found familiar but couldn't put his finger on.

"And how do you propose to do that? I can't be forced to relieve myself, Jack. Believe me, I've tried."

Jack didn't think he wanted to know the particular details of that little scenario so he left it untouched and instead gestured grandly to the armoire that stood next to the desk.

"The answer to your problem, Master Turner, lies in there."

Will stopped sifting through maps on the table and looked at Jack and the piece of furniture in question. "Well…aren't you going to open it, and reveal this marvel to me?"

Jack grimaced and brought his hands together as if in prayer. "Well ye see, there's one small problem with that. The truth is that it's locked."

Will rolled his eyes. "And let me guess…you've lost the key?"

Well that was bloody wonderful. Why on earth did Jack even bother suggesting such a solution (whatever it was), if it was so very flawed from the offset?

"Well I wouldn't say 'lost' as such. I mean it is in this room and don't roll your eyes at me, Mr Turner. It may be a shambles but it's a highly organized shambles. Just hold yer horses an' we'll sort this out."

And so, Jack started rummaging around in piles of paper looking for a key. It wasn't like looking for a needle in a haystack…it was much, much worse. At least a haystack was restricted to the size of a haystack. Unfortunately the cabin was quite spacious and everywhere you turned there was flotsam and jetsam.

"So apart from your issues with our favourite physician, how are ye settlin' in?" Jack's voice drifted up from under a pile of paper in the corner as he scuffled around looking for the key. There was a clang and a curse from Jack. "Oh I wondered where tha 'ad got to." And the crown Will had retrieved for the pirate came flying across the room, narrowly missing the smith's head. Jack's own cranium popped up on the other side of the table and he grinned apologetically if not a little roguishly. "Sorry Will, didn't mean t' aim tha' at you." Then he disappeared again leaving Will to follow his movements by sound alone.

"They're all fine," Will called back, wondering if he should seek shelter under the table lest another object come hurtling through the air and he wasn't as lucky. Life with Jack seemed to be full of promise in the injury department, that was for sure. He opted for clearing a small space on the bed and sitting on it. Not exactly what one would call soft, but then it was several times better then his current sleeping arrangements. What he wouldn't give to have a bed like this! Oh well, captain's privilege he guessed. "Mr Cotton's parrot did bite me the other day, though." Will directed his voice to the left of the table, as that's where the noises of scrabbling seemed to be coming from. Will prayed that it was his captain and not an abnormally large rat. He must've been right, though because he heard Jack's laugh from that area.

"Tha' jus means he likes ya."

"Mr Cotton or the parrot?" Will asked looking up at the ceiling. More carved mahogany. The room was a potential bloody tinderbox with all the paper and wood. One misplaced lamp and they'd know all about it as they fled in the long boats. Will's thoughts were interrupted as Jack bobbed up in front of him, a key in his hand.

"Both!" There was that scallywag grin again as he held up his prize.

Will looked down dubiously at the pirate captain at his feet. "So, that opens the armoire?"

"Well no," Jack said, reaching to his left and dragging a trunk over. "This opens the trunk."

Will rolled his eyes once more as Jack unlocked the trunk and threw back the lid. Inside lay piles of new clothes, all folded neatly in a vast comparison to the rest of the cabin. Jack took out a pair of kaki green breeches, a matching vest, and a fine white cotton shirt and threw them at former blacksmith who sat looking severely nonplussed on his bed.

"Er, thank you," Will said, unsure of how to react. He wasn't seeing how a new wardrobe was going to help him with his current problem.

"No worries mate." Jack's face was screwed up in concentration as he dug around blindly in the trunk, the remaining clothes no longer folded neatly but half strewn across the floor. Evidently this didn't bother the pirate and he gave a shout of triumph and produced another a key.

"So that key opens the armoire?" Will asked hopefully, fingering the green fabric on his lap'

"Afraid not Will my boy. Now put those clothes on," he said as he stood and walked over to the starboard sideboard.

Will's eyes flew up. "What, now?!"

"Well the ones yer in aren't gettin' any cleaner now are they lad?" The pirate was now inserting the key into a hidden lock and a panel sprang open.

"Well, no they're not," Will said huffily. "But I'll be damned if I do it just because you say so."

Jack arched an eyebrow, moustache twitching. "Damned y' are then because I am your captain an' I'm telling you t' put the clothes on."

Well stuck out his chin in defiance. "What I am wearing is perfectly acceptable. A few holes here and there, yes, but they're mostly mended and-"

"Ye stink Will. Put on the bloody clothes."

Will mouth opened and closed a few times but there was really nothing he could say to that. To be told that you smell by a pirate captain to boot…well there was only one remedy for it. He stood and made to pull off his shirt but caught Jack staring at him. He narrowed his eyes and pirate, who put up his hands in defense.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Stop acting like a blushing virgin you silly twit. I'll look away if you're going to be that bloody precious about it," he snapped, disappearing into the hidden compartment. Truth be known, Will didn't really smell awful at all. With all the herbs Spinoza had been treating him with, the boy actually smelt quite pleasant but Jack had wanted to see if he could bend his new bosun to his will. What? He was a pirate! Pirates did that sort of thing!

Will, once assured that Jack wasn't going to be observing him, Pulled the grey looking shirt up over his head and flung it in no direction in particular, hoping that it would lie and fester somewhere on the captain's floor. He picked up the new shirt and let it slip over his head, careful not to disturb the strapping still wrapped around his torso. He wouldn't admit it but the new cloth felt wonderful caressing is skin and the clean, fresh smell was also welcome. Next, he kicked off his shoes, untied his breeches and let them fall to the floor where he pushed them under the bed with his foot. The shirt was long enough that it reached down to his thighs and covered everything that needed to be covered but nonetheless he looked in the direction of Jack's arse, still poking out of the cupboard he was rummaging around in, making sure that the pirate was continuing to overt his gaze. Satisfied, he took the new breeches and slipped them on, hopping on one leg as he threaded the other into the garment and then, visa versa. He then pulled them up, tucked in the shirt and fastened them, pleased with the cut of the fabric and not minding the colour at all, either. He was just buttoning up the tailored vest that hung mid-thigh when Jack reappeared, dragging out another trunk and holding up yet another key.

He took one look at Will who was straightening out the vest and smiled broadly, unlocking the trunk as he did so. "Much better, mate. Now ye lookin' more the part. Stole them off a very well to do tailor in the Bahamas. Wonderful work 'e did. Very stylish indeed." He ignored Will's tight-lipped frown and reached into the now open trunk, taking out a pair of boots not unlike his own. "These should fit ye well enough," he said and tossed them to the young Turner. A baldric followed close behind and Will strapped it over his shoulder and put on the boots. The leather was lovely and soft and enclosed his feet perfectly. They gave him more support than his shoes did and would do a better job of protecting his Achilles in a sword fight. He decided that he didn't wish to know where Jack had gotten these and hoped the pirate would refrain from telling. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him was probably the best policy he could adopt when it came to Jack Sparrow. Then he felt something cold and metallic under his toe. Pulling the boot off again, he tipped it upside down, and out fell another key.

"And what does this open?" he asked, tossing the object to Jack who was still rifling around in the trunk, and returned his foot to it's new leather home.

"Tha', my dear boy," Jack said with triumph as he slammed shut the trunk and stood. "Opens this 'ere armoire!" And he strode over to the solid wooden structure, Will close behind, now very eager to see what was in the wardrobe that could help him in his predicament.

Jack slid the key home and turned it. There was a small click and the door swung open slowly, hinges groaning. And when it was fully opened, Jack stood smiling at its contents, arms crossed and looking very pleased with himself.

Will stared slack jawed. "Oh, Jack," he said, his tone unreadable. "Please tell me…oh, it's not…oh God, but it is." He looked from the contents of the armoire to Jack and then back again and they both stood with completely opposite expressions on their faces, staring at shelf upon shelf of bottles of…

"Yes Will, it's piss."

Will groaned and laughed and groaned some more. He was so disgusted, yet so hysterically unbelieving. His hands went to his hair and ran through it until they came to rest at the back of his head.

There had to be fifty bottles in there. Fifty bottles of yellow liquid, all lined up harmlessly on shelves that seemed to have been constructed for this very purpose.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Jack cried and pulled out a draw under the shelves. Will's eyes widened in horror as some of the bottles shook with the disturbance, but breathed a sigh of relief when they settled although the contents of some continued to slosh about slightly. Reaching into the draw, Jack pulled out a book, not dissimilar to the one he used for his profit margins and opened it up. "Now Mr Turner," Jack started in a business like manor. "I believe that pickled eggs, salted pork and dry bloody bread were on the menu this morning. Did you partake in said meal?"

Will nodded, dumbstruck.

"And rum…did ye drink yer ration of rum?"

"I don't drink rum, Jack," he managed to answer, but was unable to peel his eyes away from the site before him. It was an awe-inspiring setup indeed even if was truly revolting.

"Hmmm," Jack said, tapping his chin as he regarded the book. "No rum you say? Well there's bottle number thirty-two 'ere in the pickled eggs, salted pork and dry bloody bread column, but I still had a wee nip of rum tha' morning. This could prove problematic."

Will dragged his eyes away from the spectacle before him to look at the book Jack had in his hands. There were numbers in various columns that were labeled with what he assumed the food Jack had eaten that day. "Jack…WHY?!!!"

"Because he'll know tha' ye've not taken rum this morning. Don't ask me how, he's just got a way with these things, but I don't have any specimens of the non alcoholic variety." The answer was given matter of factly, as if it were perfectly normal for one to keep a cupboard full of catalogued urine in one's living quarters.

Will shook his head. "Not why could this prove problematic…Why do you have an armoire full of piss?!!!"

Jack looked up from the book. "Because, dear William, we all suffer from your little problem from time to time, so it keeps the little bugger off me back. Give 'im some piss and he's happier than a pig in mud as it were. The whole crew uses this system, an' regularly donates to it, I might add." He flashed a toothy grin. "But tha' still leaves us with the problem of you not havin' had any rum this morning."

"I could have some now," Will suggested, unable to believe that was actually entertaining the idea that this might actually work. But then again Jack did have a way of coming up with daft plans that were often successful…but just as often not.

Jack shook his head in negation. "No, that wouldn't give it enough tome to go through…hang on a second." The pirate's eyes lit up and he stared excitedly at Will. "The good doctor hasn't got you drinking a tincture each morning, has he?"

Will smiled, catching Jack's excitement like a bug. "Why, yes he has; a foul, disgusting one made from herbs and-"

"Rum," Jack growled happily, replacing the book in its draw and reaching into the armoire, pulling out the bottle labeled 'thirty-two'. "Now," he said, handing the bottle to Will who took it gingerly, a half smile, half grimace on his face. "Pour some o' that into a mug an' leave it out in the sun for a few minutes jus' to let it warm up a bit. If it's cold he'll know straight away tha' something's not right."

"Puts a whole new meaning to standing around like a stale bottle of piss, doesn't it?" the blacksmith remarked as he held the bottle up to the light to examine it more closely.

Jack chuckled. "I fear we're 'aving a terrible influence on yer vocabulary Will." He closed the armoire, removed the key and then went back around the room, replacing each key in turn. When he locked the trunk that had the clothes in it, he stood, strode over to Will and then tossed its key over his shoulder. It landed with a clink somewhere in the mess near the bed.

Will raised an eyebrow in question.

"Not riskin' the sneaky little devil finding out about my little collection or we'd all be lost." The pirate explained, rubbing his hands together. "Right. Time for me to return to the helm. Anamaria'll 'ave me bollocks if I leave her up there any longer with Cotton an' tha' damnable parrot of 'is."

Will nodded and headed for the door. He stopped and looked over his shoulder as Jack called his name.

"I'll see you back 'ere at four o'clock for our lessons, savvy?"

Will nodded and reached for the door handle.

"Oh an' one other thing lad…never accept a drink from Spinoza eh…especially if it's yellow."

Will laughed. "Pot calling the kettle black, don't you think captain?" he asked nodding in the direction of the armoire. "Until four o'clock then!" And Will left to find a mug…preferably one of Jack's.


	9. Chapter 9

TITLE: The Turning of the Tides 9/?

AUTHOR: Seraphina )

PAIRING: eventual Jack/Will slash

RATING: over all R but varying (anything above will be censored and the original posted to )

SUMMARY: Will tries to outwit Spinoza. It doesn't work. They both try to outwit Jack and meet with success.

DISCLAIMER: not mine, never were and unfortunately never will be.

CHAPTER 9

Will clenched and unclenched his fists, fingers sliding on sweaty palms at his side. Swallowing the nervous lump in his throat he tried to remain calm shifting slightly from one foot to the other. 

Fleeing from this particular foe was not really an option; they were, after all, in the middle of the Caribbean Sea and one could only hide for so long on a ship before someone came across them. So instead he stood and met his fate head on, hoping to God that this would work.

Spinoza. Ship's physician and all round pain in the arse. Good at his job but was all this really necessary? Will did not think so as he watched with trepidation and quite an amount of disgust while the funny little man examined the contents of the mug first by swirling it, then by sniffing it and finally by sticking his little finger in it and putting the sample to his tongue.

Will held his breath.

The first time he had seen Spinoza do this with a sample of urine, he had been a little surprised. The way Jack and the rest of the crew had made it sound, he had half expected the old man to take a swig and have a good gargle but the truth was far from being that revolting. Of course tasting urine in any way, shape or form was completely repulsive but it could have been worse.

Spinoza paused as if in thought, head cocked to the side and one eye squinting before clearing his throat.

"Well Master Turner, this is some very healthy urine indeed."

Will exhaled with relief. Jack's plan had worked!

Spinoza continued. "It is a pity, however, that it is not yours."

Or maybe not. The young smith's mouth open and closed several times but he could think of naught in response. There was nothing he could say to that. What a pity indeed.

He was saved a reply though as Spinoza looked up at him through cloudy spectacles. "I know all about Jack and his little scam. No need to look so surprised Master Turner. I'm no idiot and you'd do best to remember that. I know about every key and every trunk that fool of a pirate uses in this little charade of his. But you too are no fool Master Turner so it pains me to see you try and pull a stunt like this."

Will had the decency to look abashed. He felt stupid right now. This was the last time he put faith in one of Jack Sparrow's plans. The last!

Spinoza's face softened though as he looked at Will with a degree of fondness.

"But, I guess that if you're well enough to be trying to pull the wool over the eyes of this old man then I guess I'm finished with your urine."

A sigh of relief escaped Will's lips. He even managed a small chuckle as he scratched the back of his neck with embarrassment. For his whole life, Will had, as a rule, steered well clear of any form of lie. He was no good at it, he knew, and recent events only went towards supporting this. So not being familiar with lying, he was therefore not accustomed to dealing with being found out. Changing the subject seemed like being the best option at this point.

He turned to the wall where previously there had been shelving but where iron racks full of the good doctor's supplies were now attached. Will had constructed it the day before in between attaching a handle back onto a skillet and sharpening a pair of scissors. Life as the Pearl's bosun was certainly turning out to provide one stress after another…Will was sure he'd never resorted to sarcasm before he'd met Jack. Then again, he'd not resorted to a number of things before he'd met Jack, lying included.

Removing one of the small bottles, Will uncorked it, smelt its contents, cringed and replaced it, moving on to the next bottle. "So you know all about Jack's little collection and you've said nothing to him?"

"Of course I know about it," Spinoza said, placing the mug on the desk next to Will and picking up a mortar and pestle. "I just finished telling you that I am no fool. Now pass me that bottle," he said, pointing to a vial on the top row of the rack.

Will did as requested and watched as seeds from the bottle were poured into the mortar and ground into a coarse powder.

"As for me giving no hint of my knowledge to our dearest captain," Spinoza paused to push his spectacles back up his noes- the exertion of pounding on the seeds had caused them to slip- and looked up at Will with a sly grin on his face. "Well where would be the fun in that?"

Will raised an eyebrow, replacing the bottle handed to him by the doctor and retrieving another that the man asked for.

Seeing that Will still didn't understand his motive, Spinoza straightened and yelled loudly over his shoulder back down the length of the ship. "Captain Sparrow to the infirmary!"

Will heard the same thing yelled by several people, each sounding more distant than that of the voice before it. It was the main method of communication between decks and most of the time it was fairly effective until either it came to Mr Cotton and his bloody parrot or someone passed on the message slightly askew. Messages gone awry could end up being very interesting indeed as Will had found out only the day before when he'd called for a sword to clean and found himself holding something akin to a pumpkin. Upon questioning the crewmember responsible for delivering it to him, he was informed that it was a gourd. The same man then asked why it was that Will had wanted a gourd in the first place.

But this time it seemed to have been successful as the sound of footfalls on the stairs were heard followed by the appearance of Jack, weaving through hammocks and wearing a concerned look on his face as he saw Will standing by Spinoza.

"Wha' is it? Nothin' wrong with me bosun I hope…I've only had 'im a bloody week!"

"Master Turner is fine, Captain."

"Well what's th' blasted problem then? I've got a bloody ship t' run 'ere. I can't be wastin' me time with a nutty ol' witch doctor now can I?" Jack winked at Will, grinning like a Cheshire cat. It was no great secret that these two liked to goad each other into quarrelling. In fact, Will was fairly certain that there was an unwritten tally kept by the crew as to who won arguments the most. It would seem that Ezra Spinoza was far more gifted in the area of rhetoric but it didn't stop their captain from trying.

Will looked at Spinoza, waiting for his return fire but there was none. There was, however, a slight twitch of the lips that only Will caught and he wondered where all of this was going. The doctor had, after all, called for Jack to assist in his explanation and he wasn't going to tell the captain that he knew all about the armoire and its contents now, then what on earth did the little man have in mind?

Will waited, straight faced and eager.

"The problem is with other members of your crew," Spinoza started, turning back to the mortar and pestle so that he was side on to his captain, and added a few more miscellaneous ingredients to the stone bowl as he spoke. "It would seem that a few of them are suffering from stomach pain and I fear an outbreak of intestinal worms could very well be the culprit. So," he said, crushing the mixture in the bowl. "I shall require a sample of your urine straight away, Captain."

The grin was wiped straight off Jack's face as he stood a little straighter, looking altogether more sober which was a feat for a man such as himself at eleven o'clock in the morning, sobriety being reserved for special occasions such as hell freezing over and the appearance of a winged hog in the sky.

Jack stammered. "Well, er, if ye'd jus' like t' give me a minute or so…I'll return presently. Can't do it in front o' people like." He gestured to Will and Spinoza, then spun deftly on his heel and made his way back through the swinging hammocks. His footsteps sped up to a run when he thought he was no longer in view of the good doctor. As the thumping boots faded up the stairs, Spinoza began to giggle- a strange sound coming from and equally strange man- continually grinding away at the powder he was concocting.

"Who's got stomach pains then?" Will asked, a little concerned and hoping that whatever tasks Jack had him doing later in the day didn't involve any close contact with these particular crewmembers. Intestinal worms? He shuddered and reached for another bottle to examine from the rack.

Spinoza dropped the pestle and took a pinch of the power from the mortar, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together to test its consistency. Grunting with satisfaction, he poured a little vinegar into it and began mixing it to a paste.

"No one, Master Turner, under my care, has ever suffered from stomach pains or intestinal worms for that matter and I'll have much to say to the man who insinuates otherwise."

"But you just said-"

"I know what I just said boy! I'm not daft!"

Will frowned and after a beat, "So you lied?"

"I lied no more than your captain will be lying when he comes back down here with a mug of week old piss, warmed by the rays of the sun, expecting me to believe that it came straight from the source in the last five minutes or so. 

"Can't go in front of people indeed. Well he seems to have no trouble whipping it out when three sheets to the wind and pissing over the side of his beloved ship with an audience looking on all the while."

Spinoza straightened and turned to the young blacksmith beside him. "The problem with Jack is that he thinks that he has one up on everyone all the time. Right now, he's rifling around for some key, oblivious to the fact that I knew he would do just that. It amuses me Master Turner, so much in fact that it matters not to me that he does not know that it is I, in actual fact, who have one up on him." He studied Will now, squinting harshly over the half lenses of his spectacles. "And now that I have someone to share this with it makes it all the better. Now you too can take comfort in the knowledge that you have one up on the infamous Jack Sparrow!"

The squint turned into a grin, Will's face mirroring that of Spinoza as he thought about Jack searching for the key among all the rubbish that littered his cabin floor. It was a glorious notion indeed!

With that thought in mind and a smirk on his fine features, Will uncorked the small bottle in his grasp and sniffed it, his head jerking back as he caught the scent of the contents. He looked startled for a moment. The smell hadn't repulsed him in any way it was just so shockingly familiar. Tentatively, he sniffed it again.

Spinoza, having gone back to his task of preparing whatever it was he was making, looked up and adjusted his glasses.

"Lavender oil," he stated, watching Will's reaction.

"Yes," The smith inhaled sharply and closed his eyes, an abundance of sweet, floral odours filling his sinuses. Will's voice sounded clouded by memories as if he'd forgotten he wasn't alone. "It reminds me of my mother," he said, recalling the scented kerchief his mother would wear tucked into her dress, just over her breast so that when she held Will close he could smell it through the rough fabric. Then memories of kissing Elizabeth's hand when they greeted and scent of lavender at her wrist's came to him. "And of Elizabeth. And…" His brow crinkled in concentration as he tried to discern the images in his head. The odour conjured up a room in his mind. A room piled high with maps and candles and rum bottles and a mad pirate standing in the middle of it. Again his head jerked back and his eyes flew open to find Spinoza watching him intently.

"Jack," the old man finished for him.

Was there a smile playing on his lips? Will couldn't tell. Perhaps it was the flickering flame of the lamp on the desk playing tricks on his eyes.

"Yes, it reminds me of Jack." Not an hour ago as he sneaked into the Captain's quarters had he been aware of this underlying scent yet had unable to identify it. But why on earth would Jack or Jack's room for that matter, be smelling of lavender? It had to be one of the least pirate like smells he could think of. Did Jack realise he smelt of lavender? Will was sure that if the pirate were aware of this fact, he wouldn't be at all happy about it. Didn't do much for upholding his image now did it?

The youth raised his eyebrows at the doctor.

"I put a few drops on his pillow when I think of it in the hope that he will get some natural sleep instead of the drunken stupors he so often finds himself in."

Will nodded and smiled slowly, smelling the lavender oil again. So Jack didn't know and he wasn't going to be the one to tell him either? Let it be something else he had over Jack. Will really was beginning to enjoy this and was only slightly perturbed that the oil seemed to bring forth images of Jack only and nothing of his mother or Elizabeth. He shook his head as if trying to rid his mind of the pirate, feeling the slightest bit drowsy from the effects of lavender and looked to what Spinoza was doing.

Old but sure hands added some more vinegar to the paste to give it a more liquid consistency then the mixture was poured into a small vial. Spinoza held the vial up to the lamplight. It was black and opaque and its odour was just starting to reach Will's nostrils, cutting swiftly through the lingering scent of lavender. It was even more putrid than the stuff the physician had put on Will's ribs and possibly even more potent and concentrated.

"What's that for?" Will asked, nose crinkled and fearing that it may be for him to ingest, the final part of his treatment.

Spinoza cocked his head at the sound of running feet on the stairs and the jingle of metal against metal. He then winked conspiratorially at the young smith without providing an answer as Jack appeared through the throng of hammocks, a mug held far out in front of him, baldric swathed chest heaving with exsertion.

He had to have sped through all those keys and trunks to have had time to warm up the sample even slightly and gotten back to the infirmary in the ten minutes he had. Will was impressed as he suppressed a smirk and stood well away from the mug the pirate captain thrust into the hands of the physician. 

Another conspiratorial wink was given to Will, this time by a smirking, out of breath Jack as Spinoza dipped his little finger into the mug and put the digit to his tongue as he had done not half an hour before for Will. But this time there were a few theatrical 'um's' and 'ah's' added to the balance as the strange little man seemed to be mulling over the taste, a frown on his face, his eyes to the low crossbeam above them.

"Oh dear, oh deary me."

The smirk was wiped off Jack's face. This seemed to be a common occurrence in the presence of the ship's physician

"What? What's tha' supposed t' mean ye little bugger?!"

"Deary, deary me." Spinoza shook his head. "This just won't do. It just won't do at all."

"What?!"

But Jack, like Will, was refused an explanation as with a flurry of oversized hands, the mug was set down on the desk and replaced with the vial of whatever it was the honourable doctor had been preparing.

"Drink this!"

Jack recoiled as the smell hit him, fingers twitching in front of him as surveyed the small bottle in an untrusting manner, foot work that of someone circling an opponent as he looked at the offending substance and offending doctor, as it were, from every angle possible. This went on for a few seconds before he straightened, brought his hands together in a steeple, took a deep breath and said "No."

Spinoza's eyes widened. "No? What do you mean 'no' you daft bloody pirate?"

Jack did his best to add some diplomatic flare to his features but it wasn't a strong point of his. After all, he was a pirate captain and diplomacy came somewhere between paying for things and saving puppies on the unwritten pirate manifesto of things not to do. And as Jack hardly ever paid for things and as of yet, had not come across a puppy in need of rescuing by him, or by anyone else for that matter, the art of diplomacy was a thing somewhat defunct in his personality. Well, perhaps defunct was too strong a word; 'work in progress' was maybe a better way to describe it. So Jack's expression, while lacking in anything diplomatic, was something more akin to his scallywag grin, with a touch of pleading added into the mix.

"Wha' I mean, my most esteemed an' knowledgeable doctor," He paused for effect but seeing the nonplussed look on Spinoza's face, continued with a flourish, "Is that I 'ave taken yer request into very careful an' scrupulous consideration an' 'ave decided, despite yer recommendations tha' I will NOT be ingestin' THAT…EVER."

Will watched his captain wave his arms about madly with great amusement, trying and almost failing to keep a straight face. Perhaps he could manage the odd white lie if it meant being entertained so. Spinoza was doing very well too, he thought, the old man managing to look thoroughly enraged.

"There were no recommendations made on my part, Sir, merely orders…doctor's orders, which I suggest you take or the next time you get shot in the arse I may not be so gentle when I dig the bullet out.

"The body is a bundle of pressure points my dear Captain Sparrow, all connected to each other. Messing with these points in one place can have detrimental effects on the functioning of points in other places, savvy?" Spinoza smirked now. "And we wouldn't want the performance of our captain to be ambiguous at the most, now would we?"

Jack's eyes grew wide as he looked quickly down at his own crotch, looked back up and scowled, grabbing the vial off a very proud looking doctor. Then, pinching his nose, he downed the lot of it, coughing and spluttering and swearing as he did so before thrusting the empty bottle back into the hands of Spinoza. "Happy?!"

"Quite."

Jack turned to storm off but was stopped by the doctor.

"Not so fast, I'm not finished with you yet. Now, there'll be no rum for you for the next three days and I'll be wanting a sample morning and night for each of those days."

Will had to surreptitiously cover his mouth with his hand as a look of sheer disbelief and horror cross Jack's dark features but removed it quickly and did his best to frown gravely as the pirate looked to him for help. But Will rewarded him with nothing but a shrug. The creativity of Spinoza was endless. Who knew it could be so fun to torture someone?

"No rum?!" Jack sputtered and Will was for a moment unsure if the pirate actually had an understanding of what those two words meant probably not having heard them used together in the same sentence in his life.

Spinoza nodded in concurrence. "No rum. It will weaken the effects of the medicine."

A strange sort of daze seemed to encompass Jack and he didn't appear to be able to respond in any way but to stagger off in a state of utter dejection as if he'd just lost his best friend…which in a way he had, Will observed, waiting for the heavy and this time completely uneven footfalls of the pirate captain on the stairs as he went above deck, before laughing out loud and turning to an equally pleased Ezra Spinoza.

"No rum? And what was that you gave him anyway? Was there really anything wrong with him?" The questions were coming thick and fast. Will couldn't help this sense of excitement he felt at this small victory he and Spinoza had over Jack who generally got his own way by the simple declaration "Because I'm the captain and I say so!"

They had outwitted Captain Jack. To hell with the art of rhetoric, being devious was ever so much more rewarding.

Spinoza laughed. "Calm down lad or may have to give you something. No there was nothing wrong with him and the content of that vial was nothing more than a laxative. Should stay in his system for the next couple of days."

Oh what a glorious day to be alive! Will thought for a second. "Do you really think he won't drink?"

At this Spinoza grin became sly. "Of course he won't. He knows I'll know from the taste of his urine if he has and I know for a fact that there is not one sample in that damned armoire of his that does not contain rum. The only way he can get around it is if someone else provides the sample for him and I very much doubt that any of that lot would give up his ration of rum no matter how much the captain ordered him too. That leaves you and you'll be informing dearest Jack that you're still taking a tincture as prescribed by myself."

Will grinned, looking into the flame thoughtfully and sniffing at the lavender without even realising it, again conjuring up images of Jack.

"You can keep that if you like, to help you remember."

Will looked up sharply from the flame, his eye meeting Spinoza's and he's be damned if they weren't dancing.

"Of your mother and Elizabeth that is," the old man added, but there was still that twinkle in his eye as if he knew that Will was not thinking of them at all. "Now off with you, Master Turner. I'm sure we both have plenty to do."

Will nodded, an idea starting to form in his head as he looked at the rack he'd made for Spinoza. Something on a much bigger scale would be ideal for storing maps, he was fairly certain. Pocketing the lavender oil, he tipped a non-existent hat to the doctor and turned to leave.

"And remember what I said about me being no fool boy. Don't you get mixed up in any of their shenanigans Will," he called after the retreating Turner, for once addressing the lad by his first name. "You'll never be one of them. You're better than that."

Will paused in his step, then continued through the hammocks. He would be one of them. That's what he was here for and if not, well what else was there on the Black Pearl for him?


	10. Chapter 10

TITLE: The Turning of the Tides 10/?

AUTHOR: Seraphina )

PAIRING: eventual Jack/Will slash

RATING: over all R but varying (anything above will be censored and the origianl posted to )

SUMMARY: Literary lessons with Jack; guaranteed to have Will pulling his hair out.

DISCLAIMER: not mine, nver were and unfotunately never will be.

CHAPTER 10

Will paused in the rolling up of a map as he sounded the letters out loud. A crease of concentration furrowed his brow as he did, but it soon gave way to a triumphant smile.

"Elephant! You know the 'ph' confused me for a moment there and your drawing didn't help at all…it looks like a pig…actually all your drawings look like pigs, but it's 'elephant', right?"

Will was thoroughly enjoying his afternoon literacy lessons with Jack. They'd only been at it for three days in which time he'd proved to be a quick study. Quicker than Jack, that was for sure, for whilst Will was excelling in his attempt to learn to read and write, Jack's grasp of numbers was, from what Will could tell, on the rapid decline. This could have something to do, of course, with Jack's firm belief that the highest number in existence was something called 'infinity-nine'- the origins of such a belief had alluded Will so much so that he daren't ask for further explanation- and that calculating the square root of something somehow always involved the telling of some crude story about a whore.

After observing this, Will came to the conclusion that very few of the profit margins had ever actually been done by Jack himself, but most likely by another crewmember, although that too was also hard to believe; they weren't exactly the brightest sparks around. But, Will conceded, they didn't need to be. Their job was to follow their Captain's orders, pillage and plunder wherever possible and drink as much rum as one could without actually pickling oneself although he was fairly sure there were select few who had actually managed to do just that. How else would Mr Richter, ship's night watch, have come to smell something akin to a human gherkin?

At this very moment, they were all out there, following Jack's orders to 'stealthily await the approach of a payday' which Will found to look remarkably like floundering around in the middle of the Caribbean like a bunch of old women. This came as a relief though to Will for as long as they were doing that, they weren't attacking ships just yet thereby giving the lad time to warm to the idea and to tell his morals to bugger off.

But all that was at the back of his mind as he finished rolling the map and strode over to where Jack sat, elbow on table, face in hand, dozing whilst holding a flash card in the other. The smith struck the tabletop with the map and smirked as Jack bolted upright looking around wildly for danger. Seeing that there was none, and noticing the map in the boy's hand and the smirk on his face, he scowled and took his seat once more.

"What in the blazes did ye do tha' for bloody great fool?! I could've killed you!"

Will raised an eyebrow.

Jack's effects lay some feet away on the desk and he'd not actually made any move for them in his brief moment of panic.

"I can't die from a paper cut, Jack," Will said wearily, motioning to the flash cards and the one map that was now left of the table. The rest were on racks that he'd made after the fiasco with Spinoza.

After leaving the infirmary, Will had visited the brig and decided that there really was no need for all of the manacles and chains, the numbers of which were many. Jack had never said anything about taking on prisoners. He hadn't, of course, told Jack that he'd melted all of these down to create the iron frame that held all the precious maps. The captain had indeed been pleased enough and hadn't asked any questions. In actual fact it probably had never occurred to him that there weren't great lumps of iron lying around at Will's disposal and that most things the lad constructed were actually objects he melted down.

But for now, all that was of little consequence as Jack's quarters finally had some semblance of order, he still believed that infinity-nine was the highest number there was, and Will was currently mocking him, and the look on Jack's face told him the pirate wasn't impressed.

"Don't you raise yer eyebrow at me boy!" he said grumpily. "Now wha' did ye go an' wake me for?"

Will ignored the pirate's sour demeanour. After all, it was Jack's third day without rum and he was doing fairly well all things considering. He occasionally still needed to bolt for the door, returning a few minutes later rubbing his stomach gingerly and muttering something about 'those damnable pickled eggs'. The captain had no inkling to the fact that Spinoza's 'medicine' was actually to blame and had taken to abusing the chickens that were kept in wooden cages out on deck. He claimed that if he did not get fresh eggs soon, he'd be feasting on roasted fowl and enjoying it no matter how tough they were. Will hated chickens, almost as much as he hated whores so he didn't feel guilty about the blame being shifted to them. The point was, that due to many circumstances, Jack was in a shitful mood!

"The word is elephant," Will repeated calmly.

Jack turned his head to look at the flashcard whilst still holding it so that Will could see. "Very good," Jack said without enthusiasm. "The word is elephant, hooray for you. Although I highly doubt tha' ye'll ever need t' know how t' read or write such a word as elephant." Then something in Jack's attitude shifted and he managed a slight smile. "I really do think tha the other cards would be more…beneficial, shall we say to yer plight." Jack eyed two other piles of cards on the table next to him

"No."

Jack's smile fell straight away into another scowl. "But…but…" A childish whine started to enter his voice.

"No," Will said with more force. "Next word please captain."

Jack ignored him and looked longingly at the other cards.

The first pile, Jack had introduced him to after they'd established that he was familiar enough with the alphabet and the sounds each letter made to go straight on to identifying words.

Whilst the cards had been Will's idea, Jack had insisted on the drawings that accompanied each word. Will had not protested, even though he thought it a little childish, until Jack had held up the first card with a broad grin on his face.

Having stared at it for a few seconds, the youth had been at a complete loss until he started to tilt he his head slightly sideways to look at the figure Jack had drawn next to the spidery script. When the realisation had hit Will, he had immediately turned as red as a beet and decreed that there would be no women's anatomy in any of his lessons. Jack, apparently, had been ready for this and produced another set of cards without too much fuss, although something was said about Will actually enjoying himself had he gotten beyond the first card. But Will was quicker off the mark this time as the first word was presented to him, and men's anatomy was also marked as being out of the question.

So Jack had been forced to produce a set of complete benign and boring cards or Will was going to end their lessons there and then. This was not a viable option for the pirate. When a pirate wasn't doing pirate-y things, life was boring, and there wasn't exactly an endless supply of merchant ships just paddling around waiting to be pillaged. In the interim, there was rum, but thanks to Spinoza, Jack wasn't even afforded that luxury of late. He had a gripe in his guts, and damn it if this wasn't the first time he'd been this sober since…well, he couldn't even remember. But Will was his saving grace. He liked having the boy to himself, without other's vying for his attention when they needed things seen to. Will, he'd come to realise, was never going to be just another of his crew. He was going to be a mate. They'd kindled a friendship over a curse and girl and damn it if Will was the only one he'd ever come across who would put up with him in this kind of mood. God bless the boy. That didn't mean that he forgave him for rejecting his flashcards though. That beautiful blush that had crept up the lad's neck and covered his face when he'd realised what the first word of the lesson was…he would see that blush again or his name wasn't Captain Jack Sparrow!!! But if he had any hope of doing that, he would probably need to humour the lad some, the lad who was currently standing in front of him with and expectant and impatient look on his face obviously waiting for him to do something. What was it then? Oh that's right, next word captain. Well he had called him captain, even if his tone had been somewhat presuming, and so Jack resumed his former stance of elbow on table, face in palm as he held the next uninspiring and dull card up for Will to read.

Will narrowed his eyes at the word he was presented with, his mouth moving to form the sounds of the letters as they appeared before him. His brow furrowed and his eyes glanced at the accompanying picture hoping for a clue. No help there, it looked once more, just like a pig. Ignoring Jack's audible and dramatic sigh, he continued with his plight until with a cry of satisfaction he announced, "Monkey!" Will straightened and moved to place the map in the rack along side the others he'd salvaged from around Jack's room.

The pirate captain, somewhat unmoved by his young protégé's success, moved to the next card without even checking to see if Will had been correct. By God, he could do with a nip of rum right now.

He looked up without moving his head from its resting place in his hand to find the former blacksmith standing in front of him, hands on hips, squinting at the new card. Though after a few short seconds, Will knew what it was.

"That one's easy. It's 'Jack'." Despite this, he leaned in for a closer look at the picture Jack had drawn next to his name. A simple 'portrait' of a round body, a round head complete with triangle representing his hat, sticks for arms and—

"Jack, why do you have three legs?" he asked after careful scrutiny.

"Huh?" Jack, who had barely been paying attention, but pining for his beloved rum instead, frowned, lifted his head and looked at the picture where there were indeed three lines of equal length protruding from the crude little body. He squinted before a large grin appeared on his face. "That's no leg, boy!" he cried, positively beaming as he watched the expressions play over Will's face. He waited only a second before he was rewarded once again with that lovely blush.

Will tried to look disapproving but was having a hard time keeping his eyes from wondering somewhere they really shouldn't in an attempt to ascertain how much truth the image held. Obviously it was highly exaggerated…not that he'd ever had the chance to inspect another man in such a way before. But stop that! He was thinking things he really shouldn't be thinking and things that he couldn't possibly want to know…really…well maybe…just a little… "Next card please!" he said quickly, averting his eyes from the captain's grinning features altogether.

Jack obliged the boy, smirking at his response. He'd seen the eyes dart to his lap. Well, let him think on that one! He thought as he watched Will wring his hands, obviously uncomfortable with the turn the lesson had taken, but still determined to go on.

Will looked at the next card, eyes brightening in recognition as he saw his own name next to a similar drawing of what he assumed to be himself. He looked wearily at the likeness, afraid of what he would see. In the end it was a case of what he didn't see, and frowning slightly he asked, "Jack…why don't I have three legs?"

Jack nearly choked and he started to sputter, "Well, I, er, well, ye see, I…well, I wasn't quite sure of yer…dimensions as it were," he finished finally, his own eyes darting to Will's crotch and back up to the youth's face which, if it were possible, was turning an even deeper shade of red.

Will's eyes became like saucers and he turned his back quickly on Jack, busying himself with a pile of empty rum bottles he'd collected from around Jack's room. He'd had in mind dividing the pile in two, one half for Spinoza and his medicines, the other half for Jack and his 'collection' but for now, he simply sifted through the heap with a booted foot, mentally berating himself for even asking such a question. What did he care that Jack had neglected to include such an appendage, such a completely private appendage in his likeness of Will?

Glass clinked and Jack smirked, aware of the obvious conflict going on in Will's head. The boy was trying to decide whether or not he should be thankful or slighted at the fact his captain hadn't taken liberties with the drawing on the card and he wondered which one of Will's emotions would win over in the end. Either would be entertaining from where he sat; he'd be rewarded with another lovely blush or one very miffed blacksmith to goad and aggravate.

Unfortunately, Jack would have to be kept wondering for just then there came cries from on deck and the pounding of footsteps. Both Jack and Will's head's lifted to the door when a knock sounded, all thoughts of the awkward situation forgotten as Gibbs stuck his head into the room.

His expression was first one of surprise at sight of the floor- something he hadn't seen in Jack's cabin for a good long while- then his features became stern as he looked at Jack.

"Cap'n, the watch has spotted a merchant ship off the port bow. She's French, Cap'n."

Jack scrambled to the desk, sifting frantically through the pile of papers that Will had yet to sort out. He seemed to have found what he was looking for though as he surveyed a document- evidently the manifest as stolen by young Robby- a frown on his face as his eyes scanned back and forth.

"She must be the Liberté," he muttered almost to himself then louder, addressing his two companions, "She's smaller than us and we've got almost double the crew. Shouldn't be too much of a challenge." He looked up at his quartermaster who was waiting for orders. "Ready the men, Mr Gibbs. Mr Turner and I shall be on deck presently."

Gibbs nodded and his head disappeared followed by the sound of his voice screaming at the crew to arm up and ready themselves for boarding.

Jack looked up at Will, who now stood facing his captain. The pirate tried to gauge the lad's response to this news but the youthful face held nothing but a slight frown. Will's baldric and sword lay on the desk and Jack tossed if to him as he strapped on his own.

Will himself wasn't completely sure what he was feeling. Excitement? Trepidation?

He was searching his heart for answers, but looked up when Jack spoke.

"So, Will me lad, yer first raid. Yer father would be proud," he said with a grin. Will smiled slightly too.

"Right. Either that, or he'd be madder than a cut snake at you for leading me astray." He gave a winning smile to the now uncertain looking pirate captain and strode out of the cabin. Best to meet this thing head on, he guessed. After all, he wanted to be a pirate…didn't he?


	11. Chapter 11

TITLE: The Turning of the Tides 11/?

AUTHOR: Seraphina )

PAIRING: eventual Jack/Will slash

RATING: over all R but varying (anything above will be censored and the original posted to )

SUMMARY: Will's first raid. It doesn't go entirely to plan and the smith is left more confused than ever.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, never were and unfortunately never will be

CHAPTER 11

Once out on deck, Will made his way purposefully to the side of the Pearl trying to catch a glimpse of their target as Jack bellowed out orders. The smith was forced aside though as a rumbling, grating sound announced the readying of the cannons, their heavy wheels grating across the wooden deck, the vibrations felt through his booted feet. Gunports were opened, both on deck and below and the long nines were rolled out and put into position.

Confused, Will bounded up the stairs, that groaned with mocking protest, to the poop deck where Jack stood at the helm. The pirate captain was in his element, hand on the wheel, wind blowing his hair as his roamed the prospective battlefield.

"Jack!"

Jack paused in his order giving, but did not look at Will as he addressed the smith, instead letting his eyes roam the deck to make sure everything was as it should be. "Wha' is it, Will? No' much time t' stand around an' chat, as i' were," he said gruffly.

Will stood his ground, not bending to the captain's mood. "You said that we wouldn't use the cannons. Why are the crew running out the guns?"

Jack's brow creased. Only now did he allow his gaze to come to rest on the blacksmith. "I never said we wouldn't be usin' 'em, I said i' was doubtful. In any case, from this angle, we won't 'ave a chance t' use 'em until we're along side 'er." He motioned forward with his head.

Will looked up and saw the Libert to the left of the Pearl about a half-mile ahead of them but the pirate ship was closing fast; she may not have been a cursed ship any longer, but the Black Pearl could still move at an almost preternatural pace. Will could just make out movement on the other ship's deck as its crew prepared for attack, her tricolour flapping proudly in the wind. Despite the small crew, it seemed to Will that she was rather heavy on the draught; a sure sign of much cargo. She was all but begging to be raided, and Will could see Jack thought this too, as he licked his lips in anticipation of what they would find in the merchant ship's hold.

Jack yelled for someone to take the helm and manoeuvre the Pearl to meet the target's starboard side, then ordered the gunners to stand down unless the Libert opened fire first.

"I'm hopin' fer a surrender," he shouted to Will over the din of the excitable pirate crew. "But knowin' th' French, they'll put up a small fight, jus' fer show. An' I use th' term 'fight' very loosely…more like poncin' about really…the French are renowned fer it." He made his way down the stairs to the main deck, Will following doggedly, trying to keep his emotions in check. If there was to be a fight, he would need to keep a level head.

Jack continued the shouted conversation as he strode along the length of the deck, checking cannons and crew, making sure they were of a suitable standard. "I want you t' stay close t' me, Will, no matter what 'appens. You hear me, boy?"

Indignant anger boiled in Will, and he forgot momentarily the internal battle he'd been fighting, wondering if he'd be able to kill a merchant sailor if there was a need. He grabbed Jack by the upper arm and swung the pirate to face him. "I am quite capable of looking after myself, Jack," he said heatedly, touching his other hand to the hilt of his sheathed sword. "You know I can handle myself!"

A grisly smile appeared on Jack's face. "I know ye can lad," and he put his hand on Will's shoulder. "Tha's why yell be watchin' me back, savvy?"

All doubt fled Will's mind at those words, and he all but puffed up with pride. Pride that retreated only slightly as he realised they were now along side the Libert and a crew of angry Frenchmen stood, muskets ready, shouting words Will didn't understand. They may have been half the number of the crew of the Pearl, but they still emanated malice and hostility that sent a chill down Will's spine. He could barely hear himself think over the racket of the two crews and was so caught up in the moment that it almost didn't register to him that Jack had moved off. He ran after him, drawing his sword as he saw his captain do so, watching with wide eyes as the grappling hooks were thrown and the gangplanks placed haphazardly across the gap between the two ships.

"Why aren't they firing their cannons on us?" Will shouted to Jack, who was getting ready to board.

"Likely they don't want t' risk our return fire. All this is show, Will me boy. Can't surrender straight away lest they seem cowardly, ye see. All a bunch of bleedin' show ponies are th' French." He looked at Will now, his face serious, his voice steady. "Ye ready fer this, Will? No one will think any less of you if yer not. Ye can always stay below deck with Spinoza who refuses t' take part in such things, an' aid the wounded should there be any."

Will was almost tempted to take this offer, but no, he had to do this. He couldn't let Jack see his indecision, though, and lifted his sword in readiness. "I'm ready Captain Sparrow. You can trust me to watch your back."

Jack looked at his bosun with something that could only be described as tenderness. "I know I can, Will, an' I do." Then he shouted to the rest of the crew. "Alright ye mutton headed fools, no killin' 'less ye have to. Anythin' of value gets divided equally among th' crew. Time t' do wha' we do best. Let's show these frogs tha' th' Black Pearl an' 'er crew mean business."

The crew roared and swarmed upon the Libert. Muskets fired and swords clashed. Both French and English expletives sounded from all around and without a second thought, Will followed his captain down a gangplank and onto the deck of the merchant ship where he immediately found himself fending off enemy blades.

The air was filled with smoke and the smell of gunpowder as he threw one man off him and followed Jack's retreating form through the haze, blocking blows as he went.

Will's own movements where tight and controlled, anticipating strikes and lunges, and meeting blades thrust for thrust.

The situation differed little to the hours of solitary practise he'd put in, the added force against his sword as it blocked blows, the only telling difference. Of course, there generally wasn't a bunch of angry pirates and equally angry Frenchmen screaming and fighting around him when he practised, nor were there muskets firing and bullets whizzing past his ears, but the principle was still there and his technique didn't falter, and he followed closely the rules of engagement.

Will leapt smoothly to the side as a rather vicious enemy blade lashed out at his torso, narrowly missing him. Ok, so dodging wasn't as issue either during solitary practise. But that was not the point. The point was that Jack had entrusted him to watch his back and so far Will was proving a success. Of course Jack was handling himself with ease and his own brand of pirate flare, and was making his way deftly towards a man who Will assumed to be the captain of the Liberté, greeting the white wig wearing merchant sailor with a friendly tip of the hat. It was a bizarre scene to watch as the fight went on around them and Jack spoke calmly with the captain in French. Will fought of anyone stupid enough to come near them with relative ease, but most stayed clear, picking a fight elsewhere. Jack had been right, the fight was for show and the heart of the Liberté's crew was hardly in it and his own crew seemed to be running circles around the French. Anamaria's fists were flying, opting for hand to hand combat in place of a weapon, Cotton and Mart were taking care of a rather large man from their respective vantage points, even young Robby had a sailor at his feet, sword at the man's throat, daring him to move. In fact most of the merchant vessel's crew seemed to be in much the same position and those that weren't stood down at a few loud words from their captain.

All was silent.

Will was confused.

He turned to Jack, eyes darting around and sword still drawn as a precaution.

"They've surrendered?" he hissed. "Just like that?"

Jack grinned broadly. "Call it the ol' Jack Sparrow charm."

Will looked at him dubiously.

"Oh alright, I told Captain Moreau 'ere that we'd leave him his crew an' his ship unharmed if he let us to his cargo without fuss."

Will grinned. If this was the way that Jack went about pirating then he was all for it. No serious injuries per se, just a few cuts and bruises on both sides; nothing a bit of rum wouldn't fix. French ego was the biggest fatality.

The former blacksmith sheathed his sword as Jack shook hands with his fellow captain. A few words were exchanged and the Frenchman pointing to the hatch that led to the lower decks. Jack nodded, sheathing his own sword and turning, searching the array of pirates and sailors before him for the one he was looking for.

"Anamaria!"

The dark-skinned first mate emerged from the crowd, dragging a rather large, cowering sailor behind her. A black eye was already rearing its ugly head and blood poured from a broken nose. Ok, so perhaps it would take a little more than rum to patch up this guy.

Fixing his eyes on the woman, Jack motioned towards the hatch with his head. "Take Señor Martinez below an' see wha' kind o' swag we're lookin' at."

"Aye, Cap'n," she nodded shoving her defeated Frenchman to the deck where he groaned in pain. An average sized pirate of Hispanic origin stepped over the prone sailor and obediently followed Anamaria down the hatch, drawing his pistol as Jack called after them to watch out for any sailors who had remained below deck.

As they waited, Jack turned once again to Will, smiling his scallywag smile and patting his bosun on the back. "So, Will. Wasn't as bad as ye'd thought, I expect."

Will nodded in agreement, Jack's good mood catching quickly as the pirates and sailors talked amicably to each other in a mixture of French and English. "Indeed it wasn't. I was expecting at least some bloodshed." He looked to the groaning sailor Anamaria had left. "Well, at least more bloodshed than that."

Jack's brow creased and he looked serious for a moment. "Well, tis best t' prepare one's self fer the worst. Not every captain will yield so easily to an enemy. We're jus' lucky tha' Captain Moreau is a smart man otherwise-"

He was cut off by shouts from below. Something was happening and Will wasn't sure if it was good or bad. His hand flew to the hilt of his sword as did Jack's, and that of every other man on deck.

"Anamaria?!" Jack called out, anxiously awaiting the reply.

Will shifted nervously. Everything had gone off without a hitch so far, and he feared they'd thought themselves victors prematurely. He waited with bated breath as all eyes rested on the opening in the deck.

A few seconds later, the woman pirate's head popped up through the hatch, her expression completely unreadable.

"I think ye should come and have a look for yerself cap'n."

To Will, her voice sounded shaken. With excitement? With fear? He didn't know, and it made him uneasy. His fingers danced nervously over the hilt of his weapon, ready to draw it out at any moment should the need arise.

"Will!"

Jack's gruff voice cut through his worry and he looked to the eccentric pirate.

"Come with me," he ordered, walking swiftly to the hatch, his normal swaggering gait completely gone.

Will made to comply, but as Jack disappeared below deck, a sailor he was passing lashed out with the butt of his pistol. Catching the movement from the corner of his eye and hearing a shout of warning from one of the Pearl's crew, Will succeeded in ducking to the side, the weapon glancing off of his head, just above the ear instead of cracking him across the back of his skull as his attacker had intended.

The blow brought him to his knees nonetheless, the world spinning before his eyes. He was vaguely aware of the kafuffle going on beside him as several pirates pounced on the Frenchman, knocking the pistol from his hand and quickly subduing him. Not without a few sharp French curses which would not have meant anything to Will even if he could have understood them.

There was a moment of muted silence, and he brought his hands to his head, his hair feeling wet and sticky under his fingers before a bright white pain seemed to explode inside his skull. He fought the brilliant blackness that threatened to overcome him, trying to stand several times, but failing then panicking for a moment, fearing that he'd lost all equilibrium, but telling himself not to be stupid; he'd just taken a massive blow to the head and it was normal.

Thinking it best to remain still and calm until the pain diminished and the awful feeling of dizziness subsided, he focused on the hatch that Jack had disappeared down only moments beforehand in an attempt to stop his world from spinning in front of his eyes.

Will was just starting to regain control of his senses as Jack appeared again. He began to call out to his captain, seeking the sympathy he knew he would receive, but the expression on the pirate's face stopped him.

Jack had not looked his way at all, in fact he had not looked at anyone bar the Liberté's captain and the fierce glare he gave this man was enough to send chill's down Will's spine. Jack pointed menacingly at Moreau as he approached him but Will's hearing seemed have been affected by the clout to his cranium for the words that were spoken between the two sounded muffled to his ears. Not that it mattered; Will had no French, but still the sensation was eerie as his own heart beat seemed to echo through his skull, drowning out most of what he could hear in a pounding rush.

Jack's words were venomous, whatever they were, and he spat them with such ferocity, as Will had never seen him use before. The other captain looked defiant despite the Jack's outburst, which only served to fuel the pirate's anger as he pointed behind to the hatch, hair trinkets clanging together in an accentuation of his rage.

The voices were rising now and Will's thudding heartbeat seemed to recede as the argument became more animated between the pair. Jack shouted orders to the two of his own that stepped forward and grasped the French captain roughly by the arms. The man, perhaps a little older than Jack with a salt and pepper moustache and black hair poking out from under the wig, seemed to realise that things were not going well for him. Will saw the fear in his blue eyes, but the captain refused to let the emotion take rein over his face. Instead, he spat back just as venomously as Jack had.

At first, Will blamed what he saw happen next on the blow to his head. His eyes could not possibly be telling the truth for what he saw was something that would not leave his memory for the rest of his life.

Jack, his very own Captain Jack Sparrow, moved in a way Will had never seen him move before, his decorated hands a blur as the left one grasped the struggling French Captain by the front of his shirt, the right one disappearing into his coat and reappearing with a flash of silver. The movement was almost too quick for Will to follow as that flash of silver was followed by a burst of crimson as Jack's dirk, a dirk that Will had cleaned and sharpened for his captain that very morning, slashed across Moreau's throat and his blood flowed freely, a gurgling sound erupting along with the red river, the body dropping to the deck with a terrible thud followed to the gentle, perversely musical clatter of the dirk that fell next to it.

Will must have let out a sound then. Why else would Jack choose that moment to turn his gaze on him? His murderous gaze that dissipated as soon as his dark, kohl rimmed eyes took in what had befallen his bosun. But it was too late. Will had seen that look in Jack's eyes. The pirate moved towards him, to aid him, holding out his hand to help Will to his feet, but Will could only stare dumbly at it. It was covered in blood.

Will finally found his feet and he staggered, away from Jack and away from the blood. Like a wounded animal he reeled, shying from hands that tried to help him, ignoring Jack's pleading cries, and desperately trying not to think of the quicksilver scent of blood that was assaulting his nostrils. He lost his balance several times, the wound to his head hindering him even more, but he scrabbled on hands and feet when he could not stand, somehow making his way back across the gangplank without falling and back to the Black Pearl; to his home. The home that he shared with Jack. Jack the pirate. Jack the cold-blooded murderer. With that thought and the world around him moving in a sort of slow motion, he stumbled across the deck, faltering several times, but making it to the far side of the ship just in time to retch and vomit the entire contents of his stomach over the side. His whole body trembled, and he broke out in a cold sweat, hunched over the railing with images spinning through his head. Images of a youth, eleven years old, made cabin boy in return for passage to West Indies. Set upon by pirates. Somehow Will had managed to suppress these memories over the years, but they flooded back with full force, blending and melding with what he'd just seen.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, hanging over the Pearl's railing. The sun gradually sunk into the ocean and things went along behind him, pirates shouting and people running back and forth, but he ignored them. What was he doing here? Spinoza had been right. He could never be one of these people, these pirates, if it meant doing what he'd just witnessed Jack do.

Jack.

Oh, how he'd misjudged the man. He'd never thought the pirate capable of doing such a thing to an innocent man; to another pirate, yes. Even Will had had his part in disposing of Barbossa's lot, but not a merchant captain. A merchant captain who had clearly surrendered not moments before his execution. But then again, could he blame Jack for what he was? Weren't his misconceptions of the pirate his own fault? Jack could only be Jack, not what Will wished for him to be. Of course Jack was capable of murder…he was a pirate! But Will couldn't help his mind arguing that Jack was no regular pirate. Capricious violence was not Jack's style. He was a good man. At least, Will had thought him to be a good man. He'd saved Will's life had he not? But that didn't mean that Will could condone murder of an innocent. His head throbbed and his heart ached, but he couldn't cry. He just stood there, shaking, the smell of the blood refusing to leave him.

He was still lost in these dizzying thoughts when he felt a slight pressure on his left shoulder. Slowly, he turned his head and stared at the hand that now rested on his person. It was clean now, the rings on it shining with their normal dull lustre in the fading rays of the sun, but Will fancied that he could still see the blood that had drenched it earlier. He could certainly still smell it…then again, he hadn't been able to stop smelling it. Several seconds passed and when he didn't acknowledge the hand's owner in any other way but to stare at the offending appendage, it left its place on his shoulder with somewhat of a jerked, apologetic movement. Impossible as it was, Will imagined a bloody handprint was left in its wake.

Will looked back out to the sea.

"Will," Jack said pleadingly, hovering at the edge of the smith's vision, wanting, but not daring to touch him again.

Will gave no response, no indication that he's even heard and Jack's voice seemed to fill with hurt. "Please, Will. The hold…twas full of…Will, it was a slave ship. Nearly one hundred of 'em all crammed down there like animals."

Will remained silent. This was not to say that he was ignoring what Jack was saying. On the contrary, he was relieved to hear that there had been a reason for the pirate's uncharacteristically violent outburst, but still he was at odds with an inner struggle. Yes, it had been an uncharacteristically violent outburst for the Jack he knew, but let's face it; how much of Jack did he really know? Did he do this sort of thing often? Was there always a valid reason for it? And as for valid reasons…Will was opposed to slavery of any kind, but that was of little consequence. The fact remained that slavery was legal trade, and the French captain had only been doing his job. Who was Jack to judge? He was pirate for Christ's sake, yet he'd taken it upon himself to end this man's life because he didn't agree with the man's occupation. At least Moreau's chosen profession was not punishable by hanging, which was a lot more than could be said for Jack Sparrow.

At that moment, Will's understanding of right and wrong was thrown into absolute and utter turmoil. He stared down, his elbows leaning on the railing, wrists crossed and hands dangling, and wished for a brief reprieve from his state of confusion.

"Will, look at me, please." Jack's imploring voice reached him again.

He sighed and complied, conceding that despite this drastic turn events and his now skewed view of a pirate's existence, Jack deserved to be heard, if only to confirm to Will that his whole belief in Jack being a descent man was indeed a fantastic misconception on his part.

As soon as he did look at Jack though, he knew this not to be true. The expression on Jack's face, the beseeching look in those kohl-rimmed eyes, they both belonged to good man. The hands held out palm side up, begged forgiveness.

"Will, I'm sorry."

Will looked pained, his brow creasing. "No you're not, Jack. You'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"Wouldn't you?" Jack's dark eye's searched Will's own brown orbs, his expression imploring.

It was a fair question, and Will cast his gaze back out to sea as he gave it the consideration that it deserved. But even after careful pondering, he had nothing and turned back to Jack whose expression had changed little.

"I don't know, Jack. I honestly don't know…"

Jack seemed to deflate a little, his eyes still roaming over Will's features, hoping that there was immediate forgiveness there that he'd somehow missed. No such luck. The boy would have to come to terms with it in his own time. He frowned when the fading sunlight glinted off wetness just above Will's right ear. His reached out to touch it, but pulled back quickly as if he'd encountered something hot when Will shied away from the hand. Gods, would the lad never let him touch him again?

"You're bleeding," he said quietly with concern.

Will brought his own hand to the wound and cringed slightly as he touched it. His fingers came away sticky and looking at them, he saw the deep red of aging blood. No wonder he'd not been able to escape the smell.

"I'm going below deck to help Spinoza now. You could come too, and he can see to that." There was hope in the pirate's tentative suggestion, and Will felt a rush of affection in his chest for his captain, which only served to confuse him even more.

"I…I think I'll stay up here for a while." He paused, unsure of what to say next, not wanting to hurt Jack's feelings, but not wanting him to think that all was forgiven either. "I need to gather my thoughts."

Jack gave a tight-lipped smile. Will detected disappointment in the captain's features, but was not swayed, and he fought the urge to call to Jack as the pirate spun on his heel and strode off, disappearing below deck.

Will sighed and turned back to the sunset. Who was Jack to judge that man, indeed? But if that were the case, who was Will to judge Jack?


	12. Chapter 12

TITLE: The Turning of the Tides 12/?

AUTHOR: Seraphina )

PAIRING: eventual Jack/Will slash

RATING: over all R but varying (anything above will be censored and the original posted to )

SUMMARY: The aftermath of Will's first raid that was more violent than expected. 

DISCLAIMER: not mine, never were and unfortunately never will be

CHAPTER 12

Will was thirteen when he was formally introduced to the craft of smithing. During the two years leading up to this, his duties had included sweeping up the metal slag left behind from his master's toils, looking after Xavier the donkey, and other menial tasks. But the day that Brown drew the young Turner to his side after the lad had finished stoking the forge, and began to teach his apprentice the way of hammer and tongs, Will knew that he had found his vocation.

His first commission had been nothing as delicate or as intricate as the swords he would later slave over. Brown showed him patiently how to heat and shape the metal, first with a piece of scrap iron and then, when Will proved to be a quick study, with the desired strip of metal for the job. Will was so talented that, on the very first job, Brown did little more than stand by him, giving the odd instruction but generally just encouraging him. And while it took Will maybe five times as long as it would have taken the old man, by sunset the blacksmith's apprentice had created a fine stock brand, perfectly matching all desired specifications.

Will had not received much praise in his life, never having had the chance to do something to warrant it, but that day, he heard much. First from Brown, who was evidently pleased to discover that his work load could perhaps be lessened in the near future, and then from the well-dressed gentleman to whom the mark of the brand belonged. He took the piece from the blushing youth, giving impressed whistles as he looked at it from all angles, commenting especially on the almost invisible join of the brand itself to the handle. At this point, Brown piped in proudly that Will had had sense enough to put the handle on the right side of the brand without being told, something that he, Brown had overlooked himself in the past, resulting in a brand that would sear only the mirror image of the intended mark into a hide.

Will, clearly pleased with the compliments but uncomfortable with the attention, gladly ran off to find a piece of virgin wood of suitable size when the man expressed the wish to test the brand immediately. Will himself was curious to see the mark his brand would make and rushed excitedly back into the forge, block of wood in hand, only to pull up short in confusion: he saw a young dark girl, who could not have been much older than himself, barely dressed and cowering in fear at the feet of the man - the man who had only minutes ago kindly praised Will for his workmanship. He stood now, this kindly man, with Will's brand in his grasp, pulling it from the embers of the forge. The girl had scrambled desperately in Will's direction but she wasn't fast enough. Her ankle was grabbed and her leg pinned to the ground as the brand was thrust against the soft skin of a bared thigh.

The scream was horrible in Will's ears but the smell was worse. The scent of burning flesh filled his nostrils, and if he had not been so rooted to the spot and utterly shocked, he would have run out back to the alley and vomited. Will stared dumbfounded and open-mouthed as the man pulled the brand away and gave a grunt of satisfaction. Will's hand may have been shaken then, and words were perhaps spoken…words like 'perfect', and 'wonderful'…but Will thought it was ugly, this scar he had helped create. Ugly and brutal and cruel. As the man paid Brown, tipped his hat to Will, and dragged the weeping slave girl away muttering harsh words at her all the while, Will began to cry. He had not cried in a long time; not since his mother had died. Even when he had arrived at Port Royal and realised his situation, he had not cried. But he cried then. As he stood rubbing his tears away angrily with his fists, he felt he could not bear to have part in making anything used to harm a defenseless creature. With a firm hand resting on the boy's shoulder, Brown solemnly and soberly remarked that there was not much money to be made in horse shoes in a port-side town, and that it would be a shame to waste talent on such things. The old man pointed out that nothing illegal had been done there that day and if Will wished to be successful, he would have to accept that this was the way things were.

Even before he took up the habit of practicing swordplay for three hours a day Will was never under the misconception that such weapons were not used to maim and kill.

Will had debated whether he could simply refuse to make weaponry, though he knew any mention of this school of thought to Brown would surely have earnt him a sharp critisizm for his 'fanciful ideas'. So Will decided that his work would primarily be, at least to him, an art. If he could succeed in making these objects beautiful, then Will reasoned that he could perhaps block out the ugliness for which they were constructed.

Now, as he stood leaning over the side of the Pearl, blood pounding in his ears and head hurting like Hades, these boyish and altogether childish ideas revisited him. The confusion he'd been wallowing in for most of the evening turned swiftly to anger, primarily at himself for even entertaining these naïve delusions; swords were not art, they were made for duelling, brands for branding, and knives…Well it appeared that knives were used to slit the throats of merchant captains who were unarmed and had surrendered.

Will was naturally headstrong, something that he had demonstrated on many occasion and at that moment, it came to the fore. As far as he was concerned, he had every right to question Jack's actions. To think that the pirate had even tried to justify himself! Moreau had surrendered, it was as simple as that. "He had surrendered!" The loud and furious exclamation did little to dispel Will's anger.

He turned swiftly, intent on finding Jack, whom he would never again call 'Captain', only to pull himself up short, finding several dozen pairs of startled eyes staring at him with fright. Will's anger was suddenly forgotten. He did not know what kind of stupor he had been in to miss this lot coming on board behind him, but the sight of them on the deck of the pirate ship was enough to send his morals, which he thought he'd just worked out, spiralling out of control. The battle within Will raged on as he watched the emaciated slaves being helped onto the Pearl in the fading light, many of them not able to walk unaided, and most, by the looks of them, victims of physical cruelty.

One old man, eyes milky with cataracts, stared unseeing from the foot of the main mast, hands out-stretched and voice cracking as he begged for something in a language Will could not understand. It did not take an idiot, however, to see that the slave was dehydrated and required water. Momentarily forgetting his design to seek Jack, Will rushed to one of the rain barrels and scooped up a ladle full of the cool, fresh liquid and knelt before the shrivelled figure, noting with some pity and slight disgust that the man had lost control of his bowels. Will held the water to him nonetheless, as cracked lips parted to guzzle greedily.

"Slow down, old man," Will muttered, easing the ladle away slightly. "You'll make yourself ill." He rolled his eyes as the words left his mouth; the slave could hardly get any sicker than he already was.

During the next half hour, his anger with Jack and his moral indecision pushed firmly to the back of his mind, Will made the rounds of the deck, helping the crew there to water the slaves well enough to remain topside, and watching on warily as those who were ill enough to require medical attention - of which there were many - were taken down to Spinoza.

Young Robby appeared from below deck and wove his way through the deluge towards the former blacksmith. The boy looked pale, his hands stained red with blood, and for a split second Will was reminded of the pirate captain, reaching out to him with bloody hands to help him to his feet.

"Mister Turner," Robby panted, looking a little shaky on his feet. "Thank God I found ye."

Will shook his head, straightening from his crouched position in front of a rather pregnant black woman. "Will, Robby, it's Will."

Robbie nodded and gratefully took some water that Will offered him. The gawky-looking pirate youth gasped as he finished it, began to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, then thought better of it as he caught sight of the blood. "Yer wan'ed below deck to 'elp the physician. 'e says 'e needs a steadier 'and than mine. Not tha' I'm complainin', like. Rather you than me, eh?"

Despite the ominous sound of it all, Will nodded and motioned to the deck littered with people. "You continue on here then, alright? One ladle each and then do another round. They'll try to take more but it's better that they take only a bit at a time."

"Right ye are, Mister Turner, I mean, Will," Robbie corrected at the look Will gave him. After washing his hands in a bucket of sea water he set off to water those who needed it most.

Will stared after him for moment, did a quick scan of the deck to make sure everyone who needed desperate attention was getting it, and then walked briskly to the hatch and disappeared below deck.


	13. Chapter 13

TITLE: The Turning of the Tides 13/?

AUTHOR: Seraphina )

PAIRING: eventual Jack/Will slash

RATING: over all R but varying (anything above will be censored and the original posted to )

SUMMARY: Will has to revise his moral standing when he is forced to help Spinoza tend the wounded.

DISCLAIMER: not mine, never were and unfortunately never will be.

CHAPTER 13

Will's senses were assaulted as soon as he entered what was normally the crew's quarters. The air smelt foul, heavy with a sickly sweet odour that came with only one thing - rotting flesh. Rotting flesh on the living meant infection, and as he stepped clear of the stairs and strode through hammocks in which lay the victims of these infections, Will was forced to hold his forearm to his nose simply to breathe sucessfully without gagging. Several months living in one's own filth as well as that of nearly a hundred others, under a cruel hand, had left many slaves with wounds that refused to heal. There were wails of pain and delirium coming from all directions, but above that, from the direction of the makeshift 'infirmary', he heard shouting in French.

Finding that the cloth of his shirt did little to block the stench, Will attempted to breathe through his mouth, but the taste of the air was little better than the smell. The smith paused momentarily to compose himself, forcing a look of resolve onto his face, and continued his path through the swinging hammocks toward the rising shouts up ahead. He knew that if he looked too closely at what was going on to his left and right, he might very well be sick. Spinoza could only deal with so many patients, the rest was left up to those amongst the crew who could stomach it, whether they had any medical expertise or not, and Will's bet was on the latter.

As he cleared the last hammock, Will found himself face to face with one of the biggest Africans he'd ever seen. Memories of Barbossa's bosun came quickly to mind, although this man lacked the self-induced scars that had made that cursed pirate particularly intimidating. The expression on this man's face, however, was not exactly one of welcome and before he knew it, Will found himself pinned to the wall, bottles clinking next to his head in the shelving he'd made not days before.

The man seemed to demand something of him in French. Will, devoid of both comprehension and weapon - his sword was somewhere back on the Liberté - could only struggle in vain against the man's hold, which was gradually starting to cut off the smith's air supply.

From somewhere behind this giant came more shouts in French. Will recognised Jack's voice. Although he did not know what the captain was saying, he knew that he was not happy. Will, still angry with Jack, childishly wanted to tell him that he did not need his help, but was prevented from doing so by the massive forearm across his upper chest. There was more shouting, and Will knew it to be Spinoza. The man holding him growled something back without taking his menacing eyes off Will and, if anything, his grip tightened.

Panic rose in Will as the edge of his vision started to go black, and it was not until he was on the brink of losing consciousness that he was released.

Shakily he rubbed at his chest, guessing there would be a bruise there come morning, not knowing what had been said to the man to change his mind, but happy that it had been. The slave was still standing in front of him, staring down at him with mistrust. Will sidestepped gingerly, not taking his eyes off the man till he was quite sure he was out of arm's reach, then turned to see what the hell the commotion was about.

Spinoza's desk was cleared and had been dragged away from the wall to stand in as a surgical table. Jack stood to his right at one end, and whilst Will could tell the pirate was trying to catch his eye he refused to look in Jack's direction. Not that he could have torn his eyes away from what was on the table even if he had wanted to. If he'd thought that the scene above deck had been bad, Will now knew he had been naïve and stupid.

A slave boy no more than eight years of age lay in the grip of fever. He was clothed only in a tattered pair of breeches but Will barely registered this for, below the non-existent hem of the pants, the boy's left leg was raging with infection from the knee down. Will's eyes followed the varying colours of skin from black to red to a horrid unnatural pus-green in the the region where a big toe should have been.

Will made a choked sound in the back of his throat, looking to Spinoza, who was trying to keep the healthy leg still as he examined the wound.

"W-what happened?" the smith managed to get out, eyes wide as they swept over the entire form of the boy, who writhed and moaned as Spinoza went about his examination.

"Yer 'Capitaine', tha's what 'appened," Jack growled, hands on the boy's shoulders in an attempt to keep him supine.

Despite the situation, Will looked up sharply at the pirate, eyes narrowed. "I never said I agreed with what he did."

"But ye'd rather martyr him an' hate me, is tha' it?" Jack snapped back coldly.

Will ground his teeth, trying hard to remain civil. "This is hardly the time, nor the place, Captain."

"I quite agree." Spinoza looked up over the rim of his glasses. "Glad you're here, Master Turner. Can't say as young Robby was much help, although he meant well. Very nearly had me amputate a man's entire hand when the finger was all that was needed, he was shaking so much."

Will gulped nervously, his stomach feeling as though it had dropped about a foot. "Amputate?"

"Oh yes." Spinoza grin was almost maniacal, and Will thought for a moment that perhaps all this was starting to unhinge the little old man whom he'd thought to be a bit mad from the outset. Spinoza continued: "That's all I've been doing for the past hour. Can't really do much else for a lot of them I'm afraid. It's always like this when you're forced to clean up someone else's mess. It never fails to amaze me just how stupid some people are. You'd think that a bunch of healthy slaves would fetch a far higher price than a bunch of cripples would." The physician shrugged and went back to the examination. "But what would I know? I'm just the doctor."

The bitterness in Spinoza's voice was apparent and Will felt pity for the man. No, the physician had not gone crazy; he, like Will, was merely struggling for understanding.

Will shook these thoughts from his head and began to mentally brace himself for the task at hand. When he'd lived in England, a dog had died in the lane at the back of the house he'd lived in with his mother. No one had come to take it away and the smell of it had wafted in through the windows. That's what the wound smelt like to Will, but it looked even worse. The angry lines of infection wound their way right up the boy's leg and the skin looked like it was ready to burst. Again Will felt as if his stomach had dropped.

"The captain did this?" Will asked quietly as Spinoza went about his work.

To his right, he heard the pirate take a breath as if he were about to launch into another tirade, but it did not come. Spinoza's warning glance in the pirate captain's direction was not lost on Will and he was thankful. Will had meant it when he'd said that it really was not the time or the place.

Instead a deep voice from behind him spoke up, nearly scaring him out of his skin. He'd almost forgotten the huge slave was there.

"Yes, it was the captain's doing." The man's voice was quiet and even, with only a trace of an accent. The fact that this man could speak English and speak it well was a source of confusion for Will but he dared not question it, lest he find himself pinned to a wall and unable to breathe. Instead, he turned, his back to Jack, not on purpose but because it meant he could see both who was speaking to him and what Spinoza was doing. No, having his back to Jack was merely a bonus.

"The captain, with the aid of the bosun's hammer and chisel."

Will was sure that the colour completely drained from his face at that moment. His mouth felt dry but he still managed to speak. "Why?"

The big man looked sad and Will found it hard to believe that a moment ago he'd found him menacing.

"Punishment," the man said quietly, and then recounted a story that Will was unlikely to forget, along with the rest of the day's events, for a very long time.

Having been captured at a very young age and forced into slavery in the West Indies, the man had been given the name 'Horatio' by his master; a learned and not unkind plantation owner by the name of Hamish Cameron. Cameron had obviously been more of a modern thinker, insisting that Horatio be educated and raised in the main house in the hope that he would faithfully serve his master in the man's older years. The slave was schooled in what he coined 'white devil tongue', and was apt at communication in both English and French by the time Cameron passed away. Upon his master's death, Horatio was granted freedom in accordance with Cameron's last will and testament and was able to join the crew of a merchant ship heading back to Africa. There he started a new life. When his son was born, he was given a 'white devil name' and was taught everything his father knew, Horatio praying that should the day arrive when Darius encountered these devils, perhaps being able to understand and communicate with them would be of some value.

Despite all precautions, however, when the slavers did come, the plan backfired. On the journey to the Caribbean, Darius was over heard by Moreau, begging for fresh water from one of the crew in French. It seemed that the Captain disliked hearing his language coming from the mouth of a slave and he had the boy beaten, demanding who had taught him. Horatio had, of course, stepped forward and begged that he should be the one punished and his son spared. He was granted half his request as Moreau did indeed agree that the father should be punished and so it was that Horatio was forced to cut off his own son's toe or the boy would be hanged from the yard arm.

The huge man had managed to keep his composure throughout the tale, although it was a rapid telling with no pause. As the last words left his mouth, however, his whole massive frame shuddered as he allowed himself one discreet sob. He rapidly collected himself and simply looked at the smith with dark eyes.

Will could not speak. He could only blink rapidly as he looked from father to son.

"Are ye still o' the mind tha' mine were th' actions of a cold-blooded killer?"

Will's eyes flicked up to see Jack's face, altogether sober in the candlelight.

"I never said..."

"Ye didn't have to."

Will felt a twinge of guilt as he looked at Jack, the kohl-rimmed eyes holding none of the spite they had before. But nor were they pleading. It was as if they simply appealed for reason. Either way, Will still found himself unable to respond.

The silence was broken by Spinoza as he straightened quickly from the examination which he had just completed. "Well, it would seem that Mister Horatio here quite naturally lost his nerve. The toe has been removed in two blows; the first obviously not being strong enough. Though I highly doubt that was where the problem started. More likely a few weeks in less than hygienic conditions is the culprit." He adjusted his spectacles and looked to the lad standing rigidly nearby. "Will, some laudanum, if you please. Second from the bottom, third from the right. Yes, yes, that's it."

Will's hand shakily took the bottle from the shelf, still keeping a safe distance between Horatio and himself as he passed the bottle to the physician. "What will you do?" he asked after taking a deep breath and finding his voice.

"It's as I said; amputation is essentially all I can do," he answered, administering the drug as Jack tipped Darius' head forward. The old man then began to rifle around in one of the desk drawers, finally pulling out a small bone saw, a length of linen and a small box made of jade.

"His whole leg?" Will cast a nervous eye from the saw to Horatio, wondering how all this would sit with the patient's father, given the original circumstances of the injury.

Spinoza shook his head and moved back down to the other end of the table, instruments in hand. "Maybe two inches below the knee. I should prefer to save the joint if possible. It would make any future prosthesis far more effective."

Will frowned. "Any future what?"

"Fancy way o' saying 'peg leg'," Jack offered with a wry smile, and Will felt for moment, that things were as normal. "Likes his fancy words, does the good doctor."

Will nodded and looked back at Spinoza as he opened the box to reveal what looked to the smith like a few dozen extremely thin pins.

"I once met a chinaman in my exile, who taught me the art of pressure points and how they can be used, along with these needles", he held one up to the candlelight in demonstration, "to heal and block pain." Spinoza moved quickly then, inserting the needles in different places around the boy's knee. "It does not hurt him," he said at one point, eyes flicking up to Will's face as he cringed every time the skin was broken. Then, when the physician seemed satisfied, he tore the left leg of the boy's breeches, and deftly tied the length of linen tightly around the small thigh.

Will cleared his throat nervously, glancing between the bone saw and the putrid limb. "And what part am I to play in this operation?"

Jack snorted. "That's easy; I hold down this end, an' you hold down that end." The pirate motioned with his head to both the Darius' legs. As if on cue, the good leg flailed accompanied by a whimpering moan and some delirious words in what Will assumed to the boy's native tongue. He had to hide his surprise as Jack unexpectedly brushed a hand lightly over the fevered brow of their patient, crooning softly in what could have been French but was most likely nonsense. Whatever it was, it seemed to have the desired effect and Darius slumped into a more or less relaxed state.

Spinoza gave a business-like cough and after rolling up his shirt sleeves as far as they would go, he doused his hands with a bottle of distilled alcohol he'd managed to make himself.

During Will's daily consultations with the physician, Spinoza had pointed out that it had become a necessity in the end, as the rum he'd previously been using kept on mysteriously disappearing. It had taken a lot of convincing the crew that it was not a good idea to go drinking the distilled stuff and in fact, one particular pirate, whom Will had not known, had apparently learnt the hard way. And so Spinoza's disinfecting supplies had ceased to be coveted trophies.

Will took the bottle as it was handed to him and followed suit, his own sleeves pushed up out of the way. A small hiss escaped his lips when the alcohol found a scratch on the back of his hand, presumably from the raid, he had not even realised was there. The smith shook his hand, the resulting cool breeze easing the sting a little as he replaced the cap on the bottle and put it out of the way on the shelf.

"Alright, gentleman. Let us get this over with as quickly as possible, shall we? Will, I'll want you on the other side of the table," directed Spinoza, positioning the smith next to Darius' right leg. "It will be the good leg that gives us the most trouble I should imagine; he won't be able to feel any pain in the bad one, perhaps just a little pressure. Now, Jack, you come around next to Will, that's it. Now hold the child down well, by the shoulders I think is best. You might try leaning over him a little. I don't particularly want him seeing this no matter what state of mind he's in."

Will made room as Jack bustled in beside him, the pirate's back mostly to him as he shielded the scene that was about to unfold. Will was finding it hard to swallow as Spinoza picked up the bone saw, and ran the serrated blade back and forth through the flame of a nearby candle. His heart pounded in his chest as he placed his hands gently but firmly on the clammy skin of the good leg. As soon as he did so, Darius' body seemed to surge up with impossible force for one so small, and he started screaming.

"What in God's name..?" Will cried, baring down on the undulating limb beneath him. Again he heard Jack's kindly mutterings from his left, the movement receding to the fitfulness of fever.

"Same hold used on 'im as last time, I should imagine," Jack said without turning.

Will looked up at Horatio for confirmation and the tall man nodded, hands fisting at his sides. He looked as if he were about to launch himself at the three of them and whisk his ailing son away. His jaw worked as he obviously battled internally to keep his emotions in check, perhaps realising that this was the best chance Darius had of survival. At least Will hoped that the slave had realised this. If not, they were going to need more than a bone saw and Jack's soothing gibberish to defend themselves.

The smith felt eyes on him then, and he realised that Spinoza was staring at him, waiting for an affirmation that he was ready. Will took a deep breath, and applied more pressure to the good leg. He then gave a quick nod, although he was sure he could never be ready for something like this, and moved his gaze, watching the proceedings only from the corner of his eye.

Spinoza worked efficiently but with care, muttering quitely to himself as he went. The linen used as tourniquet around the boy's thigh made for minimal blood flow yet the quicksilver scent still filled the air. It was, however, a welcome reprieve from the putrid stench of rotting flesh. The saw had to have been at least halfway through its job when Will felt the muscles beneath his hands tense. He threw all of his weight onto the bottom half of the boy in anticipation just before the attempted thrashing and screaming began. Everything erupted; Horatio started towards them yelling at Spinoza, who was yelling at Jack and Will to hold Darius down, while Jack in turn was yelling at Horatio even as he bodily threw himself across the boy's chest. All Will could do was hold on as he could not understand a word of what was being said.

"What the hell is going on?" Will demanded angrily of Jack, who no longer had his back to him but was rather on his stomach, doing his best to keep Darius still. "What is he saying?! What is the boy screaming?!" Despite not knowing what it was he was saying, it sounded to Will that it was one thing being repeated over and over in a chilling panicked scream. The sound of it was starting to make Will panic too, not to mention the ominous sight of the father looking as if he were about to commit three different murders.

Jack looked stern but spoke calmly, staring directly into Will's eyes. "Nothin', it's nothin', Will. Just 'old him down fer Christ's sake."

Will nodded shakily, tried to swallow, then though better of it as he feared the action might cause the opposite reaction. His heart pounded in his ears as he leant even harder across their patient.

Suddenly, Horatio switched to English, bellowing so loud that undoubtedly the whole ship could hear. "He can feel it! He says he can feel it!"

Will balked, nearly losing his hold on Darius in the sudden moment of horror. "He what?!"

Spinoza, always the voice of reason, switched to English then, as well. "And I'm telling you, sir, that he can not. Sensation perhaps, but pain, no! Now step down and let me do my job!"

Will thought that he had done rather well up until the point the boy's screams were articulated in English. The high-pitched, frantic cries of "I can feel it!", accompanied by the sound of the saw to his right, had Will slumping over the boy's good leg, and giving a rather loud, choked sob. All he wanted to do was put his hands to his ears and block out the awful, gut-wrenching sound.

At first he did not hear Jack's voice so near to him, but when he registered the warm breath on his cheek, he turned his head to the left and found himself face to face with the pirate, who still, through all this, looked as calm as he had on the day of his hanging in Port Royal.

"Will, lad. Listen to me. If tha' madman says the boy doesn't feel any pain, then he doesn't, savvy? I swear t' you, Will; he can't feel it. Now jus' hold in there, mate. It's nearly over."

Will nodded dumbly, finally finding the ability to swallow without gagging, and Jack gave him a quick, tight-lipped smile. "Good lad."

By the time it was done, and the stump cauterised, Will thought he might pass out again. Although Spinoza had, using his own brand of bedside manner, convinced Horatio to lend a hand rather than threaten to tear some off, Darius had not stopped screaming until the limb was almost detached.

After the wound was dressed, and Darius was moved to one of the spare palliasses, Jack announced that he needed to go topside and decide on what was to be done with the crew of the Liberté. Will made to go after him, to talk, but a small strong hand gripped his upper arm and forced him to sit on a nearby stool.

"I'm going to check that wound to your head before I do anything else," Spinoza stated, wiping his hands on what had to have been one of the only pieces of clean linen left on board, before adjusting his glasses.

"It's really not that bad," the smith said, making to stand up only to be pushed down again firmly. In truth, he had forgotten he'd even been struck, the past half hour having been what it was.

Spinoza tisked and leant in for a closer look. "I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much. Besides, your talk with Jack can wait. He has things to do too."

Will did not bother asking how the bizarre and inquisitive fellow had worked out such a thing and instead sat back patiently, deciding that Spinoza was right, as always.


	14. Chapter 14

Sorry this has taken so long. My beta seems to have disappeared somewhere...hope you´re ok Pattie! Anyway, this chapter has yet to be beta´d and is in the very capable hands of Ms Veronica Rich who was kind enough to take on the job on the spur of the moment.

Still, a lot of you guys have been emailing me asking if i´m still continuing. The answer is yes and i feel bad about making you wait so here you go. There´s some spelling and grammar errors i´m sure and could still use some work in general but i feel i owe you guys something! So here it is. Thanks to all my reviewers!

TITLE: The Turning of the Tides 14?

AUTHOR: Seraphina eventual Jack/Will slash

RATING: overall R (anything over will be censored and the original posted to Will and Jack have a deep and meaningful regarding Will's expectations and his future aboard the Pearl

DISCLAIMER: not mine, never were and unfortunately never will be

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know very little of voodoo or any other African or Caribbean religions however I have done some reading on what are referred to as Lao; _There are hundreds of spirits called Loa who control nature, health, wealth and happiness of mortals. During Voodoo ceremonies these Loa can possess the bodies of the ceremony participants. Loa appear by "possessing" the faithful, who in turn become the Loa, relaying advice, warnings and desires. Voodoo is a practical religion, playing an important role in the family and the community. One's ancestors, for instance, are believed to be a part of the world of the spirits, of the Loas, and this is one way that Voodoo serves to root its participants in their own history and tradition. Another practical aspect of Voodoo ceremonies is that participants often come before the priest or priestess to seek advice, spiritual guidance, or help with their problems. _

For this chapter, I have used this idea and somewhat bastardised it. It is not tuthful, I have not seen it done, so please keep in mind that the following is simply fiction, written solely as a plot device and not an insult. I respect voodoo as I do all religions and in the end am writing this for pleasure; both that of myself and my readers.

CHAPTER 14

It was maybe an hour or so later that Will was finally able to go in search of the pirate captain. After Spinoza had seen to and stitched the wound on his head, the smith got caught up doing rounds of the sick and injured with the physician. Thankfully, there were no more amputations to assist with although there were some for which the shock of moving from one ship to another, had been too much. Will made the arrangements with some of his crew members to have them removed and prepared for a proper sea burial the next morning. He was not aware of the customs these people practised but there was little else that could be done. Burial and cremation were obviously out of the question.

As he'd done these things, he'd attempted to construct in his mind that which he wanted to say to Jack. He was not sure that he wanted to outright apologize; he honestly still thought his reasons had been justifiable but was beginning to see that Jack's own actions had their own validity even if they had been entirely too rash. He was still at a loss as to where he should start, even as he popped his head up through the hatch in the deck.

The scene aboard the Pearl had again taken a dramatic change. Her deck was cleared of prostrate and helpless slaves and in front of the main mast, three braziers stood close together and gathered around them were perhaps fifteen or so healthy enough looking Africans, singing and laughing and enjoying their freedom. It was the first time Will had seen any of them be anything but terrified, sick or dying and he decided that it was a most welcome and heart-warming change. Smiling to himself, Will took a few more steps up, scanning the deck, thinking perhaps that Jack was over onboard the _Liberté_, still sorting out problems with her crew. The two ships lay anchored along side each other, Jack's crew moving busily between the two via gangplanks, but there was no sign of the captain himself.

Looking up to the poop deck, he spotted Anamaria. Thinking she might be able to tell him of Jack's whereabouts, he made his way across the deck. He smiled politely as, while skirting the groups of rowdy slaves, several of them grasped at his hands, white teeth contrasting starkly against black as they grinned widely, presumably thanking him. All the while, he kept one eye on the woman pirate, not wanting her disappear on him. His pace quickened as he saw her head for the stairs on the far side of the ship. She stopped halfway through her descent, however, reaching down over the rail to someone below, who handed her up a bottle. It was filled with rum no doubt, and as Will's eyes swept down the length of the bottle, they came to a hand adorned with rings, an arm baring tattoos and a billowing, off-white sleeve, and then finally to the pirate captain himself, sitting atop of a large barrel, ducking the swipe of Anamaria's hand as he said something to goad her.

Will approached cautiously as the dark woman disappeared back up the stairs and when Jack turned and spotted him, the pirate's sparkling gaze seemed to be sizing him up, trying to work out if Will was friend or foe. Will felt a moment of guilt as he saw this, but dismissed it as he finally arrived to stand next to the barrel. Jack looked down at him without saying anything, cocked his head to one side as if coming to a decision, then patted the space on the lid to the right of him.

Will hesitated for only a moment, before turning his back to the wooden tub and hoisting himself up onto it. Once he was settled, he turned his head to the left but Jack was no longer looking his way. The flames from the braziers cast a flickering orange glow across the older man's tanned features as he silently watched the celebrations onboard his ship, a bottle of rum dangled between his knees, the neck of it held loosely in his fingers. Will turned his gaze to do the same, wondering if Jack was going to talk or not. The smith had half expected a few blunt remarks, even after they'd both helped with Darius. As it was, the pirate's silence was quite unnerving, if not exceptionally out of character.

Will silently cursed himself for again assuming that something about Jack was out of character. Hadn't this day been enough to prove that there was still a lot he had to learn about the man?

Well sitting here in silence wasn't going to resolve anything, so taking a deep breath, Will decided to start the talk he was determined to have.

"Jack, I-"

"It's alright, Will," the pirate cut in, head still turned in the direction of the slaves, not looking at Will as he spoke. "Ye don't need t' apologize."

Will's jaw dropped as he glanced quickly at Jack, then snapped shut after a beat. He was about to say something about the audacity of egotistical pirate captains, but then thought better of it. He had, after all, been contemplating an apology, and even if he had decided against it, arguing about it was not going to help matters. Instead, he turned his head back to watch the flames and the people dancing around them, mimicking Jack's stance.

"I wasn't going to," he said finally, voice quiet and unassuming.

The response was a snort from Jack. Will hazarded a sidelong glance and saw the pirate take a swig from the bottle. "No, I don' suppose ye were."

Not exactly what he'd been expecting, but it was a start or perhaps an end, as Jack did not seem inclined to add anything else. Will's attention was caught by the arrival of Horatio to the group on deck. Darius would be well and truly unconscious by now, what with the combinations of sedatives that Spinoza had forced down his throat. Will was surprised to see the big man though, assuming that he would not leave his son's side, but there he was now, joining the others in whatever it was they were doing. The rest, obviously having been waiting for the arrival of the man, immediately began to mill around a rather spherical female, time aboard the Liberté evidently not having effected her weight. They were preparing for something, Will thought. Perhaps Jack would know, although the smith was unsure if a conversation was all that welcome.

After a moments contemplation, Will decided to throw caution to the wind. If he wanted to talk to Jack, then he was going to. He would talk the pirate's ear off if he didn't want to respond, but either way, Will was going to make himself heard.

Again, he took a breath in anticipation, then opened his mouth to speak but Jack turned his head suddenly to look at him.

"Today was hard fer you, wasn't it, lad?"

Will felt himself deflate. The air that he'd just breathed in rushed out of him with a sense of relief and despair as Jack got in before him. Relief that the pirate was not refusing to talk to him, and despair as he acknowledged the answer to the question.

"Yes," he responded honestly. "Harder than I ever imagined it could be."

Jack nodded and Will waited for more, but again, the older man simply returned his gaze to the slaves.

Will frowned, looking down at his hands in his lap, thumbs twiddling nervously. He was not exactly sure how he should play this. Aloof Jack was proving to be even more unbearable than drunken and annoying Jack. He'd just about made up his mind to leave the captain be for the moment and come back when he'd had a bit more rum, when Jack spoke again.

"They're good men."

Will was about to ask who Jack was talking about when he caught sight of a few of the pirate crew, infiltrating the circle of slaves and joining in on the festivities. Will nodded but said nothing else, hoping that Jack would continue better with a one sided conversation.

"I'd probably take a bullet for them."

At that, Will scoffed, unable to keep quiet.

"I find that a little hard to believe," he said light-heartedly. Again he felt guilty when there was no response, thinking that he'd perhaps overstepped the line in questioning Jack's character. His captain was obviously feeling melancholy and goading him was not likely to help his mood. "Even Mr Richter?" he added, hoping to save the conversation.

And there was the Jack he knew, smiling and watching the nightwatchman, who smelt like a human gherkin, start up a tune on an old out of tune violin. "Well, perhaps not Mr Richter. Probably be doing the world a favour if I let him take a bullet.

Will laughed, happy that things between the two of them weren't as dire as he'd expected them to be. They sat then in a more comfortable silence, watching buccaneer and slave alike, dancing around in their two very different styles.

"I took a bullet for your father once."

Will looked up in surprise, just in time to see the smile on the pirate's change somehow, as he remembered his exploits with Bootstrap Bill Turner.

"Took two in fact."

Jack pulled his shirt back slightly, revealing the two scars on his chest, the skin around the shiny marks, still black with hints of powder residue. Elizabeth had told Will of these scars that Jack had showed to her on the island that Barbossa had marooned them on.

"A couple of British Marines took us by surprise when we were looting their armoury in some port…can't rightly remember which one," Jack supplied before Will could ask for the story. "Guess they thought he was more of threat, him being the bigger of us an' all. A big man was Bill."

"Ah, yes. My father the pirate." His voice wasn't as bitter as it could have been. Will's own memories of his father were some what limited as the last time he'd laid eyes on the man had been a good fourteen years before. The fact that the only tales he would ever hear about him now were ones of pillage and plunder, was a little disconcerting; he had after all, held an ideal in his head for many years, that was until he'd met Jack. He wondered now what his father's reaction to something like today would have been. Would he have reacted the same as Will or would he have been there, holding the Frenchman so that Jack could cut his throat. Jack had, after all, said that Bill had been both a good man and a good pirate.

These thoughts were interrupted by a hand on his shoulder; Jack's.

"Sometimes we have expectations. And when they aren't met, we get thrown a little, aye?"

Will looked at Jack, his head bobbing in vigorous agreement. "Aye." Unmet expectations were the story of his life, from his father, to Elizabeth and now Jack and the Pearl.

Jack regarded him with bright eyes. "Are ye beginning to regret yer decision, Will?" the pirate asked, seemingly reading the lad's mind.

Will paused though, not quite sure of the answer to himself. He didn't believe that he was regretting it, so much as questioning it. His eventual response was full of pauses as he picked his words carefully, not wishing to offend any more than he perhaps already had.

"I...maybe...Jack, I don't know," he said, his gaze dropping again to his twiddling thumbs. "Today...", he continued, "well, I wasn't prepared for it I guess. I'm not sure I could ever be ready for it. I did have expectations; how could I not have? And you're right; they were unmet. I'd only ever encountered 'Jack Sparrow the buffoon' before," he smirked, looking at the pirate out of the corner of his eye.

Jack removed his hand from where it rested on Will's shoulder and straightened himself. "Yer about to meet 'Jack Sparrow the very bloody annoyed at his insubordinate bosun' in a minute." The threat was empty and full of Jack Sparrow the buffoon but Will's smirk fell with a sigh.

"I suppose that...among other things, it made me realise that killing is part of what I've chosen to be..." He looked back up at the pirate who had dropped the act and was back to staring at him intently, eyes flicking back and forth as he listened intently. "I've never killed anyone before," Will added quietly.

Jack considered this for a moment, taking another pull of rum. "Ye killed some o' Barbossa's boys. Hell, ye even played part in th' bastard's demise."

Will frowned. It was a point of frustration for him as he'd considered it himself as he'd helped Spinoza clean and treat wounds. "But that was different," he argued with more than a little uncertainty. "They were pirates."

"Am I not a pirate? Are you yourself, not a pirate?"

The smith scratched the back of his neck. "I suppose. But it's..." he trailed off, making a noise of frustration.

"Different?" Jack supplied with an annoying arch of an eyebrow.

Will shrugged his shoulders and nodded slowly. It was a weak argument, he knew, and confusion creased his forehead.

Jack sighed and shifted atop the barrel, his whole manner becoming looser than it had been since the raid. Will noticed this with mounting relief. Every time a little more of the Jack he knew shone through, the smith felt a little more reassured, mostly that he hadn't made the biggest mistake of his life in seeking the pirate out.

After a brief pause, the pirate spoke; "Look, Will. Ye have t' realise tha' not everythin' in this world is as black an' white as you would 'ave it be. I wish it were fer your sake. Yer a good lad; p'raps too good fer the likes of us, but it was your choice." The smith noted the was the pirate stressed this point as if he were afraid that Will might blame him for his current situation.

"My point is," Jack continued, "that it's not a case o' pirates bein' bad an' the rest o' the world bein' good. I mean, we're scum, I'm not denyin' that but even that's not a trait reserved specifically fer us. Remember, mate; the only difference between pirate and privateer is a piece o' parchment. And a brand is the only thing separating those who are free, and those who aren't."

"But surely skin colour has a lot to do with it."

Jack shook his head, resting the bottle between his legs on the barrel top, freeing his hands to lift the cuff of his right sleeve.

"Not always, lad," he said, showing Will the brand there.

Will nodded in understanding and they returned to sitting in silence, although it was a much more comfortable one than before. Yet still Will was plagued with uncertain thoughts of where he fitted within the pirate life. He knew himself to be good, but didn't think he quite rightly deserved the title of 'scum'...at least not yet. He decided to let that thought lie untouched for now.

"So what will happen to them?" the smith asked, motioning to the slaves with a nod of the head. The crew had moved back from the group now as some kind of ceremony seemed to be in the process of starting.

Jack shrugged. "There's a port in the Bahamas, a few day's sail from here. We'll take 'em there and see what happens. I have an...", he paused, trying to find the right word, "...'acquaintance' who will aide them in their plight for freedom, or find them new masters should they wish it."

"Should they wish it?" Will asked, surprise evident in his voice and expression. "Why would any of them wish to remain slaves?"

"Not all of them were branded recently, Will. I'd wager tha' the Liberté was transporting some of them from plantations nearby as well as directly from Africa. I hear they like to split up the tribes, aye? Supposed to decrease the likely'ood of insurrection. If that be the case, slavery will be all that many of them have known for a long while now, and sometimes, if someone wears a brand for long enough, they begin to believe that that's all there is to them." The pirate rubbed absentmindedly at his wrist as he said this, a wry expression on his features.

Before he even realised he'd done, Will reached across and stilled Jack's hand then turned it over before placing his own hand, palm-side up, next to it on the captain's thigh. The two matching scars stood out starkly on the worn hands, the shiny skin still a slightly pinker shade. To Will, they were a brand of friendship; Jack had after all, come back for him, despite his ideas of leverage, and even if the pirate's main priority had been his ship, Will was still alive and kicking because of the man sitting next to him.

"You're more than just a pirate, Jack. You're a friend and a good one at that. I can't deny completely that your actions had merit of some kind and I'm still having trouble agreeing with them but I apologise for my own reaction. It was insubordination on my part. You had your reasons and I should not have questioned them."

Jack laughed and slung the branded arm around the smith. "I think I would've been surprised and probably very disappointed had you not. You are who are, Will; pig headed and morally upstanding and I wouldn't wish you any other way. I'm sorry as well for the way things turned out today. Can't say I was expecting it myself but there's always the chance in our line of work. It's just somethin' ye'll have to learn, along with a lot of other things because while yer a good man, Will Turner, ye've a way t' go before yer a good pirate." And there it was, the roguish grin that mocked without shame but put Will's mind at ease as he smiled along too, comfortable under the weight of the pirate's arm.

"I do wonder if I ever will be," he said as he waved away the bottle Jack offered him. "But for now, I'm quite content to be a pirate's bosun."

"Sounds alright t' me! Now, how's that head of yers? That little devil fixed y'up, I see."

Will touched his fingers to the wound, wincing a little when he applied pressure. "I thought the stitches where a slight overkill but he insisted."

Jack nodded, chuckling. "Well, he was probably right. Better safe than sorry. Can hardly chop off yer noggin should it get infected." The pirate ruffled the boy's hair before settling his arm back around his shoulders. "Besides, I like yer head very much where it is."

"Why thank you. As it happens, so do I." Will smiled and relaxed a little more against his captain, the barrel top beneath him protesting quietly at the movement. He stifled a yawn that did not go unnoticed by Jack.

"Been a long day for ye, boy, I'm sure and what with Spinoza setting up shop in the crew's quarters, ye can have my cabin tonight." The pirate held his free hand as Will started to protest. "Once in a lifetime opportunity, William. I seldom invite anyone to use me bed lest I be there t' share it with them." He said this with a wink. "I suggest y'accept the offer graciously because I'm highly unlikely to be makin' it again."

"And where will you sleep?" Despite himself, the thought of a proper bed sounded like heaven to Will right then.

Jack waved the raised hand no in dismissal. "Be a fair few hours before I can shut my eyes. A few matter still require my attention, like what I'm going to do with this frog crew for one. I'll come kick you out of there when I can't stand any longer don't you worry."

Will opened his mouth to ask what Jack's plans were for the merchant sailors but the sudden squawk of a hen and a flash of wings turned his attention back to the group assembled by the main mast. The bird was now in the clutches of the big woman, thrust high above her head where evidently, it did not want to be; its eyes bulged comically, legs scrabbling and wings flapping in vain but the woman seemed not to notice as she started up a chant. The others gathered around her followed suit.

"Told those birds they'd get what was coming to 'em if they didn't start layin'. I can only hope that this will serve as a warning to the rest!"

Will smiled conspiratorially to himself at Jack's words. The pirate still blamed his upset stomach on the pickled eggs they were given every day as part of their rations, not having the slightest inkling that it had nothing to do with poultry and everything to do with a certain mad physician. "What do you think they're doing?"

He felt Jack shrug next to him as he drank deeply from the rum bottle. "Anamaria called it a Night Dance. Reckons they'll try to call up some ghouly spirits and ask them for guidance. If I were a spirit, can't say as I'd be mightily impressed with that offerin'." Jack nodded towards the woman who in one quick movement, ripped the chicken's head from it's body, the wings of the latter continuing their panicked flab for a few seconds before the carcass went limp.

"She believes in these things?" Will asked, slightly surprised at the thought, before wincing as the woman smeared blood over her face and flung the bird into one of the braziers. The flames flared brighter for an instant and the smell of cooking meat wafted towards them.

Jack shook his head. "Anamaria believes in two things; treasure an' striking her captain at every chance presented to her. Her grandmother was a slave in Hispaniola apparently. Tried t' teach the girl a thing or two but our Ana weren't too fussed about embracing her roots. Not when there was gold to be found." The pirate raised his head and inhaled deeply. "What a damn waste."

Although Will tended to agree- roast chicken would have made a lovely change indeed- he was not at all sorry to see the wretched bird go, as more than once had he experienced a brutal peck as he'd been walking past the cages on his way to somewhere else. He was, however, deeply curious about this search for guidance. The idea had its merits he supposed, and he was not one to dismiss issues of the supernatural as quickly as he once might have been. Fighting the undead had made him a little more open-minded about such things. What was more, he fancied he could do with a little guidance himself, despite having come to some grips with what he had become, the day's events where still waring at him even as he tried to forget them.

The chants were rising now, laced with a certain musical quality, and bare feet stamped in a hypnotic rhythm against the deck. The scent of roasting fowl was quickly masked by something akin to incense. Whatever it was made Will feel drowsy and the scene before him appear slightly surreal. He had an inkling that perhaps Jack was suffering the same effects as the pirate had stopped speaking and his rum bottle seemed to hold no further interest to him. They watched on in silence for a while, yet there seemed to be no noticeable change in the ritual. Certainly no wispy apparitions seemed likely to pay a visit and impart their otherworldly knowledge on the poor bedraggled lot.

Will hadn't blinked his eyes in quite a while, so at first he blamed what he saw on this. The world seemed to shift slightly, to fracture before him and for a moment he felt as if he were caught between two places at once for although the slave dance remained visible to him, something else entirely appeared superimposed over his vision. Not something, but somewhere. Somewhere quite dark, lit by candle or possibly lamplight. For a moment he swore he could smell dampness and mould and dirt and somewhere, the underlying fragrance of lavender.

In the real world, or at least what assumed to still be the real world, he felt himself turning to Jack, to ask the pirate is he too was experiencing the same thing as his bosun but before he could say anything, his mouth opened of its own volition and began to talk, although Will was unable to hear a word of what he himself was saying. The other scene changed slightly, and with the change, Will felt something violently tugged from within him. It was painful at the same time as being sublime but it lasted only a second and then Jack appeared, a strange thing in itself to see another Jack over the Jack he was currently holding some unknown conversation with. The other world Jack looked a little worse for wear and was frowning with concern at the bosun. Whether it was concern for the fact that Will suspected he had completely lost the plot or concern for something else in that other world, he wasn't sure, but this other Jack mouthed something to him but he couldn't hear that either. In fact he could hear nothing but the continual chanting of the slaves on deck until suddenly they too stopped and everything of the real world came rushing back to Will leaving him with an overwhelming sense of calm and belonging, and all questions of whether he'd made the right decision or not were allayed and forgotten as if they'd never existed.

The smash of glass finally brought the smith out of his stupor and he shook his head, trying to regain proper focus.

"Jack," he rasped, his mouth feeling for moment very foreign to him and not entirely his, "did you see..." his voice trailed off as he actually caught sight of the pirate captain who's arm was no longer around his shoulders but instead sat slack-jawed, dangerously pale, his ridiculously wide eyes staring shockingly at the smith.

"Jack!" Will's voice was sharp, trying to mask the fear that suddenly gripped his belly at the sight of his captain. "What's the matter!" He reached out to shake the so far unresponsive pirate but Jack flinched away, dropping down from the barrel, boots crunching the remains of his rum bottle. He'd obviously dropped it in his shock, if that was indeed what it was.

The pirate appeared to bodily shake himself for a moment, recovering some modicum of composure. His jaw was no longer slack but instead his mouth flapped open and closed as if trying to get the words out. When they finally did come, they chilled Will to the bone.

"You were yer father."

Will blinked. "What? What do you mean?" Again the calm came again.

Jack shook his head but continued all the same. "Ye changed...no, no ye didn't change, you were still you...but ye changed...somehow. You were taller and broader and yer face...Will, ye were him, ye were Bill."

"What did I...what did he say?" Something inside Will was laughing at him for such a question as if it were every day that your dead father possessed you and carried out conversations with your acquaintances but somehow, Will knew that there was nothing to be frightened of, that no harm had been done and it wasn't an unnatural occurrence.

"I can't...I swore I wouldn't say until the opportune moment. I can't." Jack hands were held out in a despairing fashion and Will thought the pirate's head might fall right off if he shook it any longer.

Jack backed away a few feet towards the stairs leading to the poop deck. "Go t' bed, Will. It's been a long day. I'll wake ye when I want me bed back." With that the captain retreated quickly up the steps and was gone and Will knew that the matter was closed. They were not to talk about it again.

Slowly, he slid from the barrel, mindful of the glass. Replaying the events in his mind, he nudged larger shards carefully with the instep of his boot, pushing them towards the side of the _Pearl_, before shoving them through one of the scuppers and into the calm ocean. He watched the ripples they created until they disappeared by which time he'd decided that it would be best to forget the whole thing, if only to keep Jack happy and as near to sane as possible. The queerness of it was reason enough for he'd learnt not all that long ago the dangers of dabbling in things one didn't understand. Besides all that, the same something inside that had laughed at him only moments before told him that it was inconsequential and what was important lay in the decisions he would make in the days and weeks to come. In the back of his mind, there was a niggling thought that it was odd he should accept all this so readily and without question, but the calm quelled that too. It told him to forget and by the time he'd turned his back on the sea, he had no memory of the incident whatsoever.

He yawned, not bothering to attempt holding it back this time, and set his mind to the thoughts of the bed waiting for him yet as he turned to walk to the cabin, he caught the big woman who had led the ritual, watching him. He could have sworn that she winked at him but for the life him, he couldn't think why.

Behind the wheel of the _Pearl_, Captain Jack Sparrow stood muttering the same phrase over and over again himself.

"You'll take something from him and then you must tell him what he needs to hear."

He did not know where he'd got it from or why it was stuck in his head. Probably was a line of some bawdy sea shanty yet he didn't think so it. It certainly didn't sound bawdy.

The pirate watched below the raised deck as Will Turner walked to the doors beneath him and disappeared into the captain's cabin. Jack himself was longing for his bed, a wave of fatigue having hit him about five minutes ago. An unusual occurrence as he very rarely needed sleep; he figured three hours unconsciousness was worth twice as much slumber and was frequently putting the theory into practice.

Give the lad a few hours, he thought to himself before picking up with the tuneless phrase again.

He did not notice the fat female slave smiling knowingly as she watched him.


End file.
